#i used to render nail beds but

[gilly-moon]

It cant just be me right

[friendoftashi]

friday night in | spencer reid x reader (nsfw)

summary: spencer gets his way with you--three times.

warnings: fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected piv, vaguely dom spencer?, one use of "girl"

a/n: this one’s long and i wrote it in the app and lost a really great draft that didn’t get saved!

work had been quiet recently, almost eerily so. when weeks pass on end without an active case, a restlessness settles over the bullpen. you’re all so conditioned to being on the move, it’s difficult to feel truly settled, to relax. it’s one of the reasons you’re so grateful to have spencer. the evenings are easier with someone else around, especially when that someone has his mind set on taking your mind as far from work as possible.

spencer doesn’t do quickies. you’ve tried, more than once, but his lust for you isn’t something that can be satisfied by a hasty fuck in the storage closet, not according to spencer. if he had it his way, he would be able to stop time on a whim to be in that space with you. tonight, he was getting his way.

6:43 pm

after arriving home, the two of you had settled into your usual places, reading quietly in the makeshift reading nook spencer had been so excited to craft with you when you moved in together. and hour passed, and the rate at which spencer was flipping pages had slowed as his attention shifted to you, just out of reach. you catch him in your periphery, setting his book on the small table to his left, sinking deeper into the plush on the chair, thighs spreading slightly. your stomach flips with the gentle, gravelly rumble of your name. you’re already unfurling your legs to make your way to him.

draping yourself across his lap, your fingers comb through this hair as he twists an arm around your waist, the other gripping your upper thigh.

“yeah, baby?”

you both hear and feel him inhale deeply against your neck, nose brushing at your pulse point. it’s unclear whether he was taking in your scent or caught off guard by the sultry tone of your voice paired the feeling of your nails grazing his scalp.

that's how you ended up splayed across spencer’s thighs in his reading chair with one leg propped up on the arm rest, back to his chest, head falling onto his shoulder as he fingers you. just barely moving, his fingers curl inside you as you try to catch your breath. with the slightest flick of his wrist and press of his fingers, he can render you useless in under three minutes if he really wants to. tonight, he’s taking his time relishing in your soft mewls, maintaining an easy pace.

10:51 pm

your socked feet rest in his lap as you discuss the movie that had just ended. it took your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the credits rolling on the screen, but you can feel his eyes on you. his fingers have begun sliding from their place on your ankle up the length of your shin and back down again.

“you tired?”

“nope,” he replies from his side of the couch. he’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes, his mouth pursed in an attempt at suppressing the smirk he knows gives him away. but you can always see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch.

“wanna go to bed?” you ask cautiously, knowing he’s already decided what he wants.

his grip on your ankles tighten suddenly and he’s yanking your body down the length of the couch playfully. you squeal and try to sit up, but he’s too quick for you, slotting himself between your legs and dropping his weight onto your torso. his chin rests against your chest as he studies your features.

“i think right here is fine,” he murmurs as his hands slip beneath the fabric at your hips, just barely kneading the plush skin, sliding lower to grip your ass.

he pausing before continuing, checking in with you, “this alright, angel?”

“yeah, spence” your reply is breathy as you dip your head down for a kiss. his mouth is soft and gentle against yours and it’s annoying. you need more, need him as worked up as you are, and push your hands into the hair at the back of his head, holding him to you and wrapping your legs around him. you whine when he pulls back from your lips slightly and he feel the laugh under his breath. you nip at his bottom lip in response and drape an arm across his shoulders, tightening your grip on his curls. his lips meets yours again, hard, and he slips his tongue in your mouth. then he’s gone as quickly as he came, kissing at your jaw and down your neck.

one hand has begun pulling your panties down your legs as the other pushes your shirt up to expose your chest. he kisses down the length of your body, holding your gaze. you can feel his hands on the insides of your thighs, easing your legs open. one dangles off the side of the couch, foot resting on the floor to give him enough room. he slides his hands under your ass once more before they come to grip your hips.

he takes a moment to admire you, still glistening from your first orgasm. a hand moves from your hip to your mound, spreading you apart. you brace yourself, anticipating the flat drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. when your eyes meet, he spits on it.

"jesus christ," your head falls back onto the cushions. you can't bare the sight of him.

his mouth latches onto you as he swipes his tongue between your folds. the discipline spencer has to take him time fingering you does not extend to oral sex. with each lick to your clit, he increases the pressure applied with his tongue. he listens for your sounds, allowing your body's to guide him. as your moans begin to increase in pitch and frequency, his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard.

your hands are in his hair, following when he shifts his attention lower and breaches your entrance with his tongue. he brings his fingers to your clit, feather-light circles just barely brushing against the swollen bundle of nerves. you can feel his tongue swirling around your walls, only able to cry out in the blinding pleasure of his worship. spencer uses his whole body to eat you out, his mouth always ready to follow the twist of your hips, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulls you against him, pressing his tongue impossibly deeper inside.

you're already close, still buzzing from your first orgasm of the night, before spencer, you could be sated by a single orgasm. he trained that out of you quickly. his tongue replaces the fingers at your clit and you can hear him mumbling something about how good you taste around kitten licks. your hips buck slightly, either running from or chasing the vibrations of his words hummed against you.

he's loud and messy with it, slurping and lapping at your clit. his hands are all over you. a forearm pinning your hips down, a hand caressing the valley between your breasts, fingers ghosting along the sides of your neck, his palm pressing into the skin of your inner thigh as he spreads you open. when he's between your legs, he's devout.

"gonna come for me, doll?" he pants against you, his pupils blown wide. if you didn't know him better, you might be worried.

your orgasm begins slowly before crashing over you all at once. with your back arching off the couch, hands in his hair, you're sobbing in pleasure, crying his name as he suckles lightly at your clit. on more than one occasion, spencer has considered taking up painting, driven by the need to memorialize your beauty in its rawest form on canvas.

11:17 pm

as your orgasm subsided, spencer had pulled you into him on the couch. he held you, stroking your hair, listening to your breathing evening out.

"ready for bed?" he hummed quietly after a few minutes had passed.

your legs still felt like jelly, the bedroom seemed a thousand miles away.

"gimme a minute," you'd mumbled against his chest.

he moved a hand to your cheek, guiding your eyes to meet his, "okay, love?"

you smiled at the softness in his voice, "yeah, spence. m'alright... thank you"

his head was resting on yours and you felt his smile as he chuckled.

eventually, you made your way to the bathroom, breezing through your nighttime routine with spencer. you were spent, but the warmth that radiated from his body as he hovered around you stoked the fire of your arousal.

as soon as he settled into bed beside you, you were pulling at his arm, urging him to roll on top of you as you leaning in to kiss him. he obliged easily, hovering over you with his forearms planted on either side of your head. you'd watched him brushed his teeth, but could swear you still tasted yourself on his lips. you reached in between your bodies to cup him through his loose boxers. his groan into your mouth is low and throaty and you're immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, ankles locked and heels nudging at the small of his back. he's already half hard when you slip your hand under his waistband. he's practically whimpering with each stroke of your hand. he moves to push the fabric down his legs, his warning that he's not going to last whispered against your lips.

"i know, i know. just need to feel you, baby," you soothe.

his cock is a deep red, the tip sticky with precum. you're sure it's less than comfortable, but when you brought it up once--the orgasm disparity in your relationship--he assured you it was intentional. every once in a while, he enjoyed the ritual of making you cum in as many ways as he can imagine as well as the challenge of edging himself. when you pushed for more details, his cheeks turned red as he sheepishly admitted that you feel different, impossibly softer, wetter, spongier, warmer, after he's been working you up for hours.

he ruts the length of his cock along your slit, the head bumping your clit just how he knows you like it. he'd intended to tease you like this, drawing you to the edge before sinking in, but you're so slick and his hands are trembling with desire. your breath catches in your throat when the tip of his cock nudges past your hole. you can tell by the way his body tenses that he hadn't meant to do it. he needs a moment before he continues. you moan in tandem when his hips met the back of your thighs, bottoming out immediately.

it drives him crazy to think about how well your bodies fit together, how your body opens up for him. he quickly works his way into a steady rhythm, one hand gripping your waist, another twisting in your hair. you're crying out with the pace he sets, the headboard snapping against the wall with the rocking of his hips.

"oh my god, you're fucking me so good, baby. right there," you urge him on.

he's been staring at the places where your bodies meet, mesmerized by the sight of his cock wet from your slick, plunging into you over and over. when he meets your gaze, you can't help the broken moan that slips past your lips. he's absolutely wrecked, pupils blown wide, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, his swollen bottom lip trapped between his teeth. you cup both sides of his face with your hands and pull him into a kiss. his pace has grown somewhat sloppier as he draws closer to his finish. slipping his arms beneath you, he cradles your body, enveloping you with his own. one hand is pressed between your shoulder blades, the other on the back of your hip, then your ass, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

"need you to come with me, sweet girl. can feel it, so tight," he grunts.

you're arching your back, nails digging into his bicep, so close it almost hurts, "please, touch me, spencer!"

he releases his vice grip on your ass and maneuvers his hand to press circles onto your clit. one, two swipes of his index and middle finger and you're there. your third orgasm happens all at once. legs trembling around his waist, teeth sinking into his shoulder to quiet the scream you can't hold back. lost in the fire coursing through your body, you only register that he's coming with the sharp slam of his hips and moan of your name. his fingers haven't left your clit, his hurried movements drawing out your orgasm. he only pulls away when you shove at his hips, thighs still twitching as they threaten to snap shut.

he's watches you carefully from his seat at the end of the bed. he's given you countless orgasms in your time together, yet spencer still can't seem to shake the momentary twinge of fear that comes with watching you come down from a particularly powerful orgasm, regardless of how many times you've reassured him that you're enjoying yourself. by the time your breathing had slowed and you could open your eyes, he's fetched you a glass of water and settled onto the edge of the bed. you're grinning when your head lolls to the side to meet his gaze.

"welcome back," he teases, hand on your shoulder as he helps you sit up and brings the water to your lips.

from your spot across the bed, he's leaning into you. you look up at him through your lashes as you take slow sips, daring him to slink back over to your side of the bed.

he rolls his eyes, shaking his head with fondness. you finish half of the water and he places it on the nightstand.

"enough," he chastises you playfully, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his eyes. holding your face between his hands gently, he presses a kiss to your hairline before slotting his lips against yours in a slow kiss. you follow his lips as he pulls away, looking into your eyes and whispering a quiet,

"i love you."

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ways/methods to torture your fictional character in a medical setting

♡♡♡ for writers to use as an inspiration for their novels/fanfictions only, I’m not a psychopath ♡♡♡

medical whump never fails to give me all the best whumperflies!

trigger warnings: description of abuse, dehumanization, nonsexual nudity and blood

physical restraints (chains, handcuffs, straightjacket, strapping them down to the bed by their wrists and ankles, etc)

I should just mention that straightjacket is one of my personal favorites

electroconvulsive therapy aka shock therapy

force feeding (via a plastic tube through their nose or mouth into their stomach)

shock collar

being forcefully shoved and held down to the ground, cheek against the cold floor

ice pick lobotomy

character getting stripped against their will

strong jets of water assaulting the character’s skin through a hose as a way to clean them

rough handling from the orderlies results in the character getting bruises all over their skin

waterboarding

getting their nails trimmed so they can’t hurt themself or others

character getting put into a hospital gown against their will is so underrated, actually

intubation against the character’s will — bonus if the character is still somewhat conscious

doses of anesthetic into the character’s bloodstream via an injection or through an iv drip to render them unconscious so that they can’t hurt themself or others

when the character is so drugged out of their mind that they’re too groggy to fight or struggle as things are being done to them; they’re half conscious still, they just can’t fight, even though they’re not restrained physically

blood draws — bonus if it gots to the point the character feels dizzy, cold and generally disoriented from losing too much blood

vivisection :)

[mysaintkitten]

A Good Wife (blurb) | Tommy shelby x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI) mean/manipulative tommy (heheh), mentions of overstimulation/multiple orgasms

“T-Tommy slow down … please-“ you sob out, digging your nails into the side of Tommy’s torso as he pounded into you from behind. Your bodies side by side in bed, Tommy’s thick fingers rubbed calculated circles on your clit.

“Are you trying to disappoint me, love?” Tommy growled lowly, the familiar spicy and woody notes of whisky linger on his breath.

You whine and shake your head, not wanting to let Tommy down. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but the overstimulation was becoming unbearable. You’d lost track of how many times you’d come at this point.

Tommy loved making you feel nice- but he also loved pushing its limits, seeing how much pleasure you could handle before you broke. He never really cared if you did break though. You’re his wife, his property, which made him feel entitled to using you whenever he liked.

“Then be a good wife and take it.” Tommy asserted, his gravely voice made your core clench around him, earning a small purr from Tommy.

Your overwhelming slickness caused Tommy to slide out for a moment, his flushed wet cock pressed against your lower lips. He rolls his hips, watching your expression from over your shoulder as he teases your sensitive folds. His gaze darkens as he watches your face contort while he pushes his length back inside you before rolling his hips back out.

“It h-hurts-“ you pant, shaking your head as another orgasm begins to build up inside you. He kisses the back of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and occasional bites.

“Sweetheart …” Tommy hums, slowing his thrusts down to an agonizing pace, you to feel each and every inch of his cock inside you. He dragged his hand up from between your legs to your breast, gripping the flesh before lightly pinching your nipple. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Your eyes started to well with tears, the pain and pleasure of it all becoming too much to handle. With each thrust a small whimper was being punched out of you. Your mind started to get cloudy, your thighs uncontrollably twitching as you came for Tommy.

Tommy chuckles as he watches you shake and mewl for him, drenching his cock yet again. He begins to turn you over, forcing you onto your stomach while he continues to fuck into you from behind. His pace wasn’t faster but it was deeper and harsher, rendering you completely helpless beneath him.

“Had enough, baby?” Tommy taunts, his cock relentlessly slamming inside you. He knew the answer, of course, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-yes!” You yelp into the mattress, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Yes, t-too much!” You cry out again, this time lifting your head off the pillow as best you can to respond to him.

Tommy scoffs before smacking your ass, “Too fuckin’ bad.”

—

short little blurb i’m just thinking about getting some degrading dick from Thomas Shelby

[eccentricallygothic]

Can we get more ellie and abby content? If u dont mind of course!! I just love the way u write them hehe luv u💞💞

Yes, you can! And thank you so much, I am just gay asf for them 🥴

Alright then, sluts. Let's do this!

Warning(s): D/S dynamics, Strict Mommy!Abby, Sadistic Miss!Ellie, possessive behavior, dacryphilia, use of strap ons, pet names, power imbalance, humiliation, doggy style, overstimulation, use of ball gag, spanking, brat taming. MDNI.

Your nose itched from how it stung each time a thick drop surfaced over one of your eyeballs before collecting along the length of your waterline and then eventually slipping down the side of your face. The 3D floral pastel green dress that you had been excited to wear ever since Abby had brought it back from a scavenging mission was no more than a pile of heartbreaking tatters in front of you as you defeatedly fingered one of the frills that made up for its arm straps. 

“It's okay, babygirl” Abby cooed from where she was crouching beside the corner of the bedpost upon which you lay on your chest while weeping over the ruined article. “I promise you will have a new one real soon. Mommy will go further out if she has to, yeah?” The young woman kept trying to console you like she had been doing so for the past hour. But it wasn't doing either of you any good. 

The sight before you was too harsh. Too unfair. Too final.

“C'mon, babygirl. I know how you felt about it and I know how rare they are but it was just a dress” Abby's fingers were coiled around your locks while her short nails soothingly scratched at your tense scalp. “But you're gonna cry yourself sick if you don't stop soon” her eyes were sympathetic but at the same time utterly nonchalant towards the ball gag that both stretched your jaw and rendered you mute. 

“Leave the brat be” Ellie's stern voice came from behind you as you felt her scarred fingers tighten against your flesh from where they held your hips while her own snapped at an unforgiving pace to pound the vibrating strap-on in and out of your throbbing cunt. “If she thinks some tears are gonna absolve her disobedience and talking back then she's dead wrong” the cruel rap she gave to your blushing ass made you jump before another tear rolled out of your eye because of how your sensitive spot was punched in with the thick tip of Ellie's cock. 

She let you feel the vibrations for a couple moments before she pulled back just to pound into you again. You tried to babble out an apology around the gag, your cheek continuously rubbing against the relatively soft bedding from how your knees were being forced to rock back and forth with every loud smack of wet flesh against the material of the strap on. Ellie's fingers sought your cunt for the fifth time and you panicked the moment your fucked out brain registered it. 

She wanted another orgasm out of you.

Oh, no.

“Well, yeah,” Abby somberly agreed before she wiped your tears and moved your hair out of your flushed face. “That wasn't very nice of you, baby” the tenderness of her kind mien contrasted that of Ellie in such a way that you felt your insides contract at the realization. The tenderness of the older's featherlight touch was in such stark opposition to the younger's brutal abuse of your poor cunt while her fingers furiously flexed round and round your folds that you felt your loins bubble up yet again. “Mommy and Miss told you not to wear the dress outside the house and you didn't listen, that's no way for a good girl to behave, Princess” your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your orgasm overcame you. There was heat and vibration everywhere on your body except for the soles of your feet which were ticklish and cold. 

Not only had you worn the short dress but you had argued with both women after some guys and girls had taken notice of you. Paying no mind to their checking you out and complimenting you, which Ellie had insisted was flirting, you had further dug your grave by refusing her demand for you to go change. The whole ordeal had made you grow so irritable that not even Abby's patient explaining had been able to persuade you. And then one thing led to another before a guy leaned a bit too close to you in the food joint and lewdly joked about helping them out with handling you since your brattiness was causing a noticeable ruckus. 

Next thing you knew, Ellie had dragged you home after punching the guy square in the jaw. 

“The brat will learn one way or another” she now spoke from behind you as she spanked you again before hooking an arm around one of your thighs and raising it up in a straight angle.

Forgiveness was not going to come easy.

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 7 | chapter 8

"Y/n," Cersei moaned.

In a slow and torturous pace, the bed rocked with every thrust of your cock inside her. Enthralled by the pleasure displayed on the Queen's face and the warm walls tightening around you, the pain you felt from her nails digging against the skin of your back was disregarded, knowing it'd be a wonderful souvenir she'd leave behind.

Kneeling, you gripped Cersei's hips, before pushing your cock relentlessly against her cunt over and over. She threw back her head and arched her back from the new angle, your cock hitting the right spot in her core as her eyes rolled to the back.

You slid your hand under her back without pulling out and lifted her body as you encourage her to straddle you, bucking up towards her as she rolled her hips down meeting you. Your eyes darted to where you two meet and every fiber in your body was on fire.

The filthy moans coming out of the Queen's mouth was driving you insane. She threw her head back lost in ecstasy, exposing her neck before you. Burying your head into her neck, you sucked into her skin then kissed her collarbone before your lips enveloped around her hardened nipple.

"Oh gods, Y/n," she moaned, her tight walls contracting against your cock. You kept on pounding inside her until you could feel your own peak approaching.

Cersei pulled your head from her breasts and kissed you desperately and hungrily, hands clutching against your messy hair. She broke off the kiss as she elicited another loud moan, her hips never wavering from meeting your thrusts. "Please don't stop, please don't stop."

You had no plan on stopping, not when her cunt was gripping you tight and you could barely move anymore. Until both of you exploded. You came a second first, your cum shooting inside of her. The twitch of your cock made Cersei's body spasm, hugging you tight with her arms and legs around you.

Having cummed inside the Queen for the nth time that day, you still couldn't get used to the feeling. The first time you were hesitant, which only spurred when she revealed to you that she'd be seeing Maester Qyburn later that day for the special tea. It made you worry less from coming inside her.

Although it would be a dream come true for Cersei to bear your children some day, it wasn't wise for the time being.

Both panting, your heads leaned against each other before chuckling breathlessly. "You make me feel so good," the Queen gasped, her smile reaching her ears.

"You're doing a great job as well, you know," you said before meeting her lips for a quick peck.

Her eyes then flitted to your chest, hand instinctively cupping your breast with her thumb brushing over your nipple. "You're so pretty, it's a mystery you're not yet taken."

Cersei then put her lips around your nipple, making you lean back against your elbows to give her space to move. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when the queen gave equal attention to your other breast.

"If you keep on doing that, we won't be able to get out of bed," you moaned.

Another roll from her hips made you hiss since you were still inside of her.

"It's nearly the morn though, I need to go back to my chambers before my handmaiden wonders where I am," Cersei said, without even moving from her spot, each grind of her hips rendering you hard again.

"You. . ," you stuttered. "You have been saying that since an hour ago."

"I know," she gasped, your cock hitting a soft spot inside her. "I can't seem to get enough of you."

And you knew you do too as you lifted her and laid her back down the bed, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist as you thrusted into her.

"Mmm, Cersei," you cooed softly into her mouth as her hands roamed around your back before stopping at your ass, pulling you closer and deeper into her.

"I like having you like this," she murmured in gasps.

"And . . . how is that?"

"At my mercy," she whispered, her eyes boring into you. Your mouth met hers passionately as your pace fastened. Her warm walls started to contract once again, her hips rolling upward to meet you.

She came first that round, making her break the kiss and threw her head into her sheets, eyes shut closed as she let out a loud moan. You followed upon watching such wonderful sight, burying your head into her neck as you grunted your release. Her hands squeezing your ass made you twitch more cum than usual.

Pulling out, you laid down on your back as you cursed blissfully. You two then burst in laughter.

Cersei crawled towards you and placed her head on your shoulder. "Did you know what rumors I heard from servants when you arrived from Dorne?"

You chuckled. "I'm used to that by now."

"I wasn't referring to your special appendage, although I got a lot of talk hearing about how huge it was and apparently they weren't lying."

Your cheeks only got redder.

"Is that why you got intrigued and pursued me?"

She chuckled, gently slapping your chest. "No, well, not just that."

When laughter died down, she went on. "I used to envy pretty girls growing up, how they had flowers as crowns on their head, or locks as wavy as it could get, and I thought I'd want to be like them. No, actually I wanted to be prettier than them and that I'd get all the suitors alone. And even when I always got what I wanted, I never ever seem satisfied, you know. And then you came in marching proudly with your y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes," she touched your hair, "I made it my mission to torment you because I hated it when someone's prettier than me."

Her forefinger then traced towards your lower lip. "But it was different. Thinking about you, everything about you to the point that I myself am being tormented. Until I heard one of the servants in the Kitchen Keep mention how you liked women and how you know how to pleasure them, all I keep wondering on about was how I want you and how I want the girls you seek to be me. Only me."

"You are though," you admitted. "I have not wanted anyone since the day I met you, during your late husband King Robert's name day."

The revelation made her eyes peak with interest.

"I was reading in the Library when I bumped into you. You probably don't remember it-"

"That was you," Cersei said, smiling. "You were eating this disgusting piece of food hanging from your mouth."

"Hey, that was a delectable piece of mince pie." This made you both chuckle.

"That first night we spent together," the Queen went on. "I figured out two things I was particularly scared of. One, your mouth is amazing." It brought a proud smirk on you, making Cersei roll her eyes and laugh. "And two, I . . . I like women more than I like men."

You looked at her with adoration as she only avoided your eyes, shy from her confession. It only made you want her more.

"Wait," you began, cupping her face to make her look back at you, "when you say women, does it mean me or-"

"Of course, it's you, you fool," she said with another playful slap on your chest, before she leaned closer and rested her head on top of you.

You smelled sunflowers from her hair as you kissed the top of her head. "Honestly," she continued in a whisper, "I think I'm more myself when I'm around you."

Cersei then pulled away using her elbow. She said, pouting, "I really do have to leave you now."

"Or you could stay?" you suggested with a hopeful smile.

She leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss, her hand instinctively roamed on your stomach down to your flaccid cock before she started stroking it.

"Gods, you're insatiable," you said, chuckling.

"Am I?" she teased before straddling on top of you and lining your cock into her entrance. "Then why are you already so hard for me?"

~~~

It was bliss the following days before Joffrey's wedding. If anyone could just focus, they'd notice the lingering glances being exchanged between you and the Queen. The late nights you had been spending time together, the times she would pull you into an empty corridor just to kiss you hungrily and the days she'd choose not to attend any of her father's council meeting just to meet you in your chambers or hers and fuck when time would allow it.

Jaime noticed, of course. He even managed to corner you two days before the wedding.

"Lady Y/n," he greeted to which you only nodded back. You two were heading towards the dining hall for the night. "How was your trip here in the Capital? I'm sure you're already looking forward to go back home in Dorne this weekend."

You forced a smile, not letting him know you had no plans returning so soon. "It was great. I think I've had it better than you," you paused when his eyebrow raised, "I mean, you're returning to Casterly Rock too. I'm sure you'll miss your days here in the Red Keep."

Then he stopped walking and pressed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you as well. "She's using you, you know. For her own pleasure." You stiffened, making him smirk then he leaned closer into your ear. "And once she's tired of you, she'll throw you away like one of her old dolls."

You pushed him off you. "You know nothing of her."

"Oh, we share the same blood, Y/n. Trust me, I know her. My sister's not capable of love. She's a hateful woman."

~~~

Oberyn found out eventually from your actions when he was asked you how you had been. And somehow, when you were inside your chambers with Cersei and you almost ready to tear each other's clothes, he knocked and entered without waiting for a reply, placing a flask on the nearest table. You knew that liquid. It was a tea made from a certain Maester back in Dorne. It was the same tea your father had used on your whores.

"You know what to do, Y/n," Oberyn advised, avoiding to look between the two of you, and quickly exited the room.

Cersei glared at you after Oberyn left, her mask of stern cold face suddenly up. She pulled away from you, creating a distance you didn't like. "Did you tell him about us?"

"I didn't, I swear," you answered back hurriedly.

She only fell silent before her eyes landed on the flask on your table. "This feels so wrong," she muttered, her arms crossed against her chest.

You carefully approached her. "Hey, hey, don't let Oberyn get to you. You know how he despises Lannisters from the start-"

"And you?" Her eyes met yours, and you could see she was scared.

"I won't be here with you if I also hate you," you assured her. Cersei let you gently rub her shoulders.

The queen fell silent again before she walked away heading towards the table, observing the liquid. "How many whores have you fucked since your arrival that Oberyn feels the need to bring this from Dorne?"

You sighed. "No one, I promise. Father's just wary when it comes to these things, something about-"

"Not creating another bastard?"

You could tell she was furious, offended. So she needed to hurt you as well.

She went on. "I supposed he's right since you'll be gone after the wedding."

"Cersei-"

"Do not call me that," she snapped. "I'm not one of your whores. Do you think I'd be a fool not to drink this tea after every night we spent together that you you even needed Oberyn to remind me."

"That's not what what you think-"

The argument stopped when someone knocked on the door. Jaime called behind it, "Father's requesting for you."

The Queen then left without batting an eye towards you.

~~~

You waited outside the council room unsure of what to do. You could hear shouting inside but you couldn't decipher the heated words being exchanged. What you could just tell was Cersei's little voice carrying against the wind, as if she was terrified.

When Cersei and Jaime finally stepped out of the room, gone was the soft look on the Queen's face replaced by a cold one, the one she sported when the two of you first met.

"What happened?" You approached her. "Are you okay?"

You were about to touch her arm but she slapped your hand away. "You need to learn your place, Lady Y/n. I am still your Queen."

Then she walked past you, with a sniggering Jaime in tow.

"Wedding's tomorrow, Lady Y/n," he said with a smug smile. "I suggest you get a good night sleep tonight."

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi hello I had brain rot and popped this out! Idk if it’s an incoherent horny ramble or not but SKIDIBOP MM DADA BOOM💥💥🤯🤯🤯

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O, Alpha!bucky, omega!reader, reader is inhuman and former hydra asset, confessions of love, mating cycles, TW//non-descript sexual assault, horrible self talk, hydra trash party tendencies, Sweet fluffy big boy Buck, breeding kink, marathon sex, pnv!sex, kinda feral ass behavior, scenting n marking

@lovelykhaleesiii @godrakin @borikenlove @ilikeitbetterangsty @connorsui I think I got my Bucky slores all counted out ;)

Feral. - B. Barnes

Bucky was panicking, sour pheromones leaking from his pores. He was an alpha, technically, but would be entering his first rut after years of chemical castration by Hydra. Rendered him beta. Now it was coming up on him, soon— you could smell that much.

Being one of the few omegas around that offered to help him out, your own powers would ease the inevitable roughness of a feral Alpha. Bucky chose you due to your close friendship, both Hydra superpowered assets. You guys could relate to each other. Although you never had to miss a heat, your handler taking full advantage of your needy state.

Bastard.

Bucky had all the signs of rut coming up; aggression, hypersensitivity, appetite, and smelling up the entire room. Stark had banned Buck to his apartment citing, “It fucking stinks, go wear him out for the love of God.” You had grabbed your clothes and favorite nesting blankets to join the brunette soon after.

Subtle cramps made you shift, the fuckers scent alone would send you into a synced heat. He smelled good, like a woodsy smell, a winter’s day, all that sappy nonsense. Bucky grunted, “What if I hurt you? Like bite your mating gland without meaning it?”

You tapped your neck, nail clicking on an invisible collar. Bucky stopped in his tracks, brows furrowing. “They have guards for that. You can lick and scent all you want but no bitesies Barnes.” He groaned, “Thank god for the future, I guess.” Another cramp hit you, hissing involuntarily at the pain.

Blue eyes flicked to you, him coming close to you. He asked gently, “What’s wrong?” You clenched your teeth and gritted out, “You. Going to send me into heat soon so stop fighting it and worrying.” Bucky’s eyes widened and he gulped, coming to terms with the reality of the situation. Fucking his good friend, you, who he had intensely mooned over for a while now.

The brunette nodded and gestured, “Do you need to nest first? I’m just going to, uh, eat a little more.” You rolled your eyes at his obvious stress eating. He was cutely fluffy now from the transition of Romania to the Avengers compound, trying to adjust. Cramp, ow. Grabbing the blankets you mounded and moulded them to your own liking. Bucky’s scent only made it better, you taking a deep inhale.

You cried out as the first real pang of heat hit you, slick gushing forth, sending you into the nest face first— drooling and whining for Bucky. Usually you used suppressants, hating how submissive and fucking stupid you got, the intense emotions brought up old memories. But not this cycle, waiting for Bucky had you back to stupidtown.

Bucky almost snarled in concern, swallowing down his protein bar and crawling onto the bed. You clawed at your clothes, ripping off the top easily. “Buuuck, help, leggings, stupid!,” you managed. The brunette yanked down your legging and underwear, growling, “Don’t call yourself that— fucking hell!”

Oh. There it was. He’d finally hit it. 

Bucky groaned deeply, taking off his clothes haphazardly, you could hear the ripping and tossing while drooling on a blanket, biting down in agony. You whined, “C’mon Alpha, knot, need it, fill my pussy up!” The normal you cringed on in the inside, but Bucky nodded along. He rasped, “Fuck yes, yes, gonna fill my pretty ‘mega up.”

You could almost purr at Barnes referring you as ‘his’.

Buck’s mismatched hands gripped your hips, sliding an impossibly fat cock between your weeping folds. A shiver wracked your spine, mewing and crying his name at the feeling. He rumbled in that Alpha timbre, “Be a good omega and just take it, make it look easy, please.” By the end of the sentence your sweet Bucky had leaked out some. Turning around to gaze at him he slid in your cunt with a grunt, fangs bared and eyes blazing.

Swollen and fucking hot he speared you fully, stretching and overfilling underused pussy. It had been so long since you’d fucked someone and damn you were glad it was him. Your pussy ached and widened around him, gushing profuse slick. Buck groaned and snapped his hips forward, dragging along everything. He let out a strangled moan, “Fuck, dolly, so goddamn tight. Gonna bl-blow fast.”

“Hurry up and fuck me then!”

A rough smack to your ass had you shutting up with a whimper. Bucky jackhammered your pussy, grunting and gasping, poor thing’s dick probably hurting. His hips smacked into your own, a metal hand pushing at the small of your back for a different angle. You wailed, Bucky cursed and pressed his soft belly to your back, chomping and nosing eagerly at the protected mating gland.

He couldn’t get enough of it, moaning and lapping like a baby alpha fucking his first rut toy. Big hands explored your body, one coming down to toy with your oversensitive clit, making you gush further. The closeness and angle had you whimpering, need forcing you to whine, “Oh, Buck, kiss me, please!”

He blinked dumbly at you, lips swollen from mauling your scent glands. You whimpered, emotions immediately jumping to: oh he hates you, used up omega. The alpha frowned and seized forward clumsily, noses mashing together as he kissed you. He still fucked you raggedly, cock swelling and pulling at your walls.

A pink tongue darted out to claim you, Bucky getting the point and tilting his head for better access to your mouth. He moaned desperately, lips driving across yours wet and messy. You threw back an arm to cradle silky-soft brown hair, fucking back onto that thick cock. “Fuuuck, knot me up baby, need it.” Bucky rasped back, “Yeah?”

“Want it, wan’ your knot, feel s’good,” came the resounding whimper.

Bucky kissed you harder, moaning into your mouth as he fucked deeper, more shallow thrusts than anything now, thick fingers pulling at your clit. He growled, “Omega, so tight— mine.” He shoved your hips flush to him, groaning chest deep and guttural as his knot popped and blew inside. You wailed and scrambled around him, that hot cum painting your insides.

Bucky whined deep in his chest, gasping against you, holding squirming hips still as he filled you up. The Alpha lapped and scented you further, murmuring dazedly, “Won’t be able to smell like another alpha again. Never.” His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, locked in now. You panted and shoved your face into the blankets, overwhelmed.

“Jus’ move to the side,” you said quietly. He gently, so very gently, eased the pair of you to the side. The knot pulled a bit, making both of you hiss. Now spooned in the fucked up nest, Bucky seemed to be dozing off, nose shoved into your mating gland, puffing softly. He slung an arm around you, making sure his entire body was plastered to your own.

Some alphas were clingy like that. Not many. Heat abated by Bucky’s knot— your mind inevitably cleared up. Emotions and old thoughts swirled in your brain. Sometimes you’d have to go through heat with a random elite of the world, them getting a present with the inhuman omega. Once you’d been through the humiliation of being used they’d dump you off with your handler, Sitwell.

He made sure to let you know you were nothing but a whore for Hydra. Used to the point where you were nothing but an easy fuck. “No self-respecting alpha would mate you,” he’d tut while inside you. Your chest clenched up, stupid stupid stupid emotions making your eyes burn.

In the same horrid voice as Jasper your mind hissed. Bucky wouldn’t want you. He knew you were easy and used to ruts. You couldn’t wash off the years of filth and scars on your nape. The great Bucky Barnes would get through this first rut and go find a more demure, self-respecting omega. Hot tears pricked at your eyes, chest beginning to heave.

Bucky’s hand came up quickly, cupping your cheek to get a look. His thick brows furrowed at your likely pitiful expression. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Woke me up when ya’ soured, you hurting?” His concerned expression made you cry harder— chest aching for this to never end. The alpha tightened himself to you, a big thumb wiping your tears. His sculpted lips pulled into a frown.

“I-it’s stupid, been a long time for me too, sorry,” you apologized.

He didn’t seem phased, concern wafting off him in waves. The former assassin practically cooed, “Hey now, seriously, what’s wrong? Spit it out baby, I know you better than that.” You stared into dead serious eyes, knowing deep down Buck would win this contest. Mouth gaping in horror you had no clue how to respond.

“C’mon ‘mega, breaking a man’s heart,” he begged soft and sweet.

Turning away from his gaze, Buck’s hand gently pulled you back with a huff. Taking a deep breath you rambled manically, “I stopped my heats after getting out of Hydra. It brings back…stuff. But I wanted to be there for you and I know I’m an easy option and all, I mean being the pass around for whatever need obviously I know how to handle Alphas.” A titanium thumb in your mouth had you rendered mute with a sudden squeak.

His face softened, pheromones swelling and making you feel woozy. Strong fucking Alpha. The anxiety in your chest abated from the scent. He asked, “Do you really think I’d care about your past?” You shrugged lightly, unsure. Blue eyes turned hard, “Give me a list and if they ain’t dead I’ll personally go castrate them.” Bucky took a deep inhale of you again, relaxing some.

“Look at me.”

You peeped nervously.

“When you offered to help I thought my dreams were coming true,” he pecked your temple, “You’re the only one I want, was gonna tough it out if the only girl I care about didn’t volunteer.” You smacked a big shoulder in shock, squeaking, “No- no you’re lying- this is a joke.” Bucky shoved his knot a fraction deeper inside of you, still swollen to hell.

He deadpanned, “Does this seem like a joke to you? I wish the damn thing would deflate so I can fuck your pretty self already. Been lovin’ you for awhile now.”

Whimpering in desire you clenched down involuntarily, Bucky’s eyes rolling back with a groan. He kissed you again, breathlessly laughing, “I thought you’d think I’m too crazy, overweight, and a load of baggage.” Smooching him back you shook your head to declare, “No, no, you’re perfect as is. This is perfect. Don’t want it to end. Love you too.”

“It doesn’t have to, babydoll,” he cooed into your lips.

After confessing one’s feelings, fucking your official Alpha was much more intense. You’d talked it out with him waiting on the knot to deflate, both of you self-conscious balls of anxiety causing the miscommunication. In full, fuck Hydra with a fiery sword.

You’d grown more heat dazed first, losing any touch to speak normally, writhing around. Buck played with your clit until you’d cum two times, chanting his name like a litany. He was goading you on with a smirk the entire time, cocky as hell now, “Yeah, that’s it, squirt for your fuckin’ Alpha.” Or he’d groan in your ear, “Good girlll, yeah, smell so sweet.”

His knot finally went down and now half crazed you rutted back on Bucky’s cock with hoarse shouts, biting into a blanket. He met you eagerly, slapping your ass and talking non-stop. The brunette moaned, “Goddamn baby, fucking ah, sh-shit!” He nudged thick thighs inside your own, using strong hands to pull you onto him. The whole place smelled of sex pheromones.

“Gonna be my big Alpha and breed me up?,” you teased deliriously, not even sure where this came from.

Bucky rumbled deep in his chest, one of those possessive hands pulling you upright to lock around a slim throat. He rasped in your ear, hot breath puffing, “I’ll fuckin’ give you some pups, s’that what you want?” His hips stuttered, cock beginning to swell again as you wailed. Please please please.

“Make you mine for good,” he nipped at the covered mating gland again, “I’d kill anyone who’d take my precious omega away from me, killing anyone who hurt you, mhm.” You turned your head to kiss his swollen lips, hand digging into his hair as the Alpha dug into you. His soft belly fit perfectly into the arch of your back, hips clapping against your slickened cunt and ass. Your brain purred about how big and perfect he was, a good protector.

Bucky begged suddenly, thrusts sloppy and stilted, “Rip th-that collar off, lemme bite, c’mon love— only one I want, make you a mama.” His lips insistently kissed, hands almost frantically grasping you. A bolt of heady arousal spiked up your belly, the need to be claimed and mated taking over. Bucky as yours sealed with his pretty white teeth, you dripped more at the thought.

Pressing the release on the collar you rocketed into a perfect, quiet, blank euphoria at the feeling of Bucky’s teeth piercing your skin. Things felt complete. You sighed in relief, the held on disgust and shame floating away. Coming back to within seconds you snarled and locked onto his pulsing neck, sealing the bite with a lap. Bucky gutturally groaned, knot popping once again, him following you down to the bed.

The pair of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, hoarsely catching breath, living in the moment. Bucky nosed at the now swollen patch on your neck, commenting dopily, “Wonder what Tony’s gonna say when you pop back out with this.” You hummed and squeezed the big arm around your waist.

“He’ll probably stutter for a minute and then act like he knew all along. Steve won’t be surprised.”

Bucky laughed, “He never is.”

His hand splayed out against your stomach, murmuring, “I know you’re on the pill but I meant what I said. Wanna make the ‘mega I love bred up.” You possibly couldn’t get another orgasm out but his gravelly tone and words made you clench. Touching the bond mark you replied, “Wanna make the alpha I love a daddy.”

He groaned, blues rolling up, “Fuck, yes.”

[luxurychristmaspudding]

beg | frankie morales x f!reader

summary: frankie's tied up, strung out. it's just a matter of how long he lasts.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. established relationship. sub!frankie. soft dom(ish)!reader. bondage. edging. mention of using a strap. oral, f&m receiving. unprotected p in v. keeping our boy pussy drunk on national catfish day yk.

wc: 1.7k

an: *sigh* look. i had some thoughts. the itch needed to be scratched. this is a tiny thing and i fear it's no good, but here we are.

In all you've done over the past few months, you don't think you've ever seen Frankie so strung out beneath you. You suppose, tonight, he's got good reason.

Because this must be torture. His wrists cuffed to the bed frame above him, tan arms taught in their restraints. His ankles tied, too - legs spread across the bed - body rendered completely immobile. He's barely been able to make a sound above a whimper, a whisper, a moan. Barely allowed to, as his cock weeps against his stomach, pearly beads of precum smearing against his skin, pooling just below his navel.

Sweat is teasing his curls into tighter ringlets, glistening in the hollow of his throat. The tendons in his neck pulled tight as he cranes his head up to watch you, lipstick marks staining the skin all the way up to his forehead. You'd swiped your lips there as you rode him earlier, chest pressed to chest, able only to moan yourself as you listened to the obscene sound of your soaked cunt pulling him in, pushing him out. Hardly able to perform the role you'd established after so much teasing, focused solely on the thick stretch of him, the fullness of his cock, the way his tip ached against your cervix. It had felt so good, having him so close, so submissive. So willing to be used, so trusting, so eager to feel you come around him.

And he'd looked gorgeous. Fighting to keep his eyes open, jaw slack, throat struggling around a swallow, around the plea of your name. He'd grappled with his self-control as you fucked yourself through every crest, as your pussy fluttered at his begging.

He'd wanted you to make it difficult for him, wanted you to push him tonight. So when you saw that pleading, wide-eyed panic on his face, you'd dragged yourself off of him. Off of his gorgeous, swollen cock, leaving him to pulse and twitch, leaning back on your calves to trail your fingers through the mess between your thighs.

He watches as you shudder at the touch, closing your eyes before meeting his, dark and burning. Lipstick up his chest, down to his bitten, nibbled-pink belly.

'You want a taste, baby boy?'

'Sí, mi cielo.'

He barely breathes as you lean forwards, slotting two fingers into his wet, waiting mouth. He fucking moans at the taste of you, swirling his tongue into any crevice of skin he can find, swiping it beneath your nails. You coo approvingly as you hook your thumb beneath his jaw, pressing the digits down on his tongue just to watch his eyelids fly open. He gags and drools a little, and you pout at him.

'Look so pretty with your mouth full, Frankie.'

He hums around your fingers, pupils blown, eyes glazed.

'Should keep it full more often, huh? Keep my pussy in your mouth all the time.'

He whines at that, body surging in a desperate attempt to move. You giggle, and he whimpers. You lick your lips.

'Or maybe... maybe we could dig out the strap, huh? Have you on your knees, choking on my cock?'

Your fingers fall from his lips with a soft pop as his head hits the pillow beneath him. You watch, smiling, as he hisses a fuck, tries to claw deep breaths into his lungs. As he squeezes his eyes shut, swallows harshly. Once. Twice.

You sit back again, one hand reaching between his legs to pull at his cock, soaked with your slick and come, running your thumb through the creamy ring you left at the base. He grits his teeth, jaw clenched so tight you wonder whether the bone could shatter.

He's close, so close. You want to know how far he'll let you take him before he careens off the edge. 

You squeeze a little harder at his tip, and he keens.

'Please, baby. Please -'

'Please what, Francisco?'

'I don't - I don't wanna come yet -'

'You want me to stop?' You ask, still fisting his cock, painfully slow. You can feel the kick of his heartbeat in it, knowing yourself you're playing with fire.

'Mhm, yes -'

You release him, letting his length slap back against his belly. He gasps and pants as you shush him, crawling up his body, retracing the path of your stained lips before you capture his in a heated kiss. You lick into his mouth, and he lets you. So pliant, so good, so easy. You grip his jaw to keep his mouth open, and pull back to look him in the eye.

'If you don't want to come, baby boy, is there something else I can give you?'

His tongue works in his open mouth, his words garbled. You spit slowly into the darkness there, and lean down to suck on his lip.

'Can't hear you, Francisco. Speak up for me, baby.'

He moans, tries again, louder. You get the gist of it, but it's so fun to play with him like this. You shake your head, grinning.

'Mm, you're not asking properly, are you, niñito? Good boys only get things when they ask properly.' He stares back at you, eyebrows furrowed, pleading.

'Maybe I'll just have to leave you here, all tied up -'

He shakes his head so firmly you lose your grip, and you can't fight the way your smile grows.

'No,' he gasps, 'Please, hermosa. Sit on my face, I want you to sit on my face -'

'Oh, baby. Then you should have said so.'

You grin at him, wicked, as you peel yourself from his sweaty chest, taking a moment to decide how this should go. You tilt your head before swinging your legs over his torso so your back is facing him, moving up the bed to hover your cunt above his mouth. You place your hands firmly on his hips.

You can hear, rather than see, how he struggles to stretch his mouth to you, his little whimpers and whines as you wiggle your ass slightly.

'Por favor, cielo, please, I need -'

You cut him off with another giggle, watching his thighs and cock twitch before you.

'I know what you need, Francisco. But I need you to beg.'

He's louder this time. Needy.

'Please, baby, please. Need you in my mouth. Need to taste you, wanna feel you, need to make you come, hermosa. Wanna smell like you, wanna be yours, need you, need you on m-'

You drop your hips, clit catching on his bottom lip, and his response is immediate. His groan is muffled by your cunt, but his tongue is instantly fixed at a point, lapping at the slick you've been steadily leaking, tracing a path up to your pearl. And then he's spiralling in tight circles, sucking slightly on the bundle of nerves before moving his lips and tongue as one. Getting you messy, just the way you like it - the way he likes it. You lean further forward, belly to belly now, biting your fist until it bruises against the moans clawing up your throat. He's good, he's so good. You can feel slick dripping from your hole to your clit at this angle, drooling from your cunt to Frankie's eager, hungry mouth. Smeared over his skin, his lips, his nose, soaking his beard.

This time, when the moan comes, you release it. Long and loud, broken towards the end. Let your hot breath pour over the skin just above Frankie's neglected dick, and you watch the way he flinches at the sensation.

Perfect.

Regaining your composure, you reach out your tooth-marked hand, tracing your fingers along the curls at his base. He shivers at your touch, but his tongue never pauses. He works you so precisely, so eagerly, that you can feel the burn of your orgasm approaching, can tell by how wet Frankie's mouth is on you that he also knows, tasting the slick you're pulsing out.

You need to work fast.

You take the tip of your finger, trailing up through the hair, up the ridged lines of his cock. The swollen veins, the soft skin, the stickiness of you and the glide of the precum he's covered in. You slide it around the tip, pressing it into the weeping slit before rubbing the digit along the sensitive underside, and this time, Frankie stutters. His hips jolt, his tongue pauses. And then he waits. Waits for the scolding, the punishment. But you say nothing. Just keep touching him, moaning, tracing the same path. Up, around, down, until you lean closer, breathing his heady musk in, before pressing soft, wet kisses to his base, up, up, shifting until you can fit his tip in your mouth.

He must know how you've set him up. He can't pull you off him, can't shift his hips away. Can't tell you to stop with his mouth stuffed full of your cunt. Can't communicate with his eyes when you've got your back to him.

Can't beg you not to make him come. Not without your permission.

It makes some sadistic little coil of pleasure bloom through your stomach. His panting breaths as he continues to eat you, his tense thighs, his curled toes. You relax your throat just enough to take him all the way into your mouth, and swallow.

It's all he needs. You shift your hips as he starts to come, a rattling, hoarse No- ripping from him. He fills your mouth quickly - silky, salty - and you let it dribble down his pulsing length, your clit twitching in an effort to join him. When the last spurts have hit your tongue, when he’s whimpering and heaving, you swallow. You make a show of arching your back, of rising slowly. Of detaching yourself from him, of your disapproval.

When you look at him, he's wrecked. Spent, barely on earth. But his eyes shine with tears, with embarrassment.

'Lo siento, cielo.' He croaks, but you shake your head.

'Not good enough, Francisco,' you murmur, 'You know you can do better than that, don’t you?'

He nods, chin quivering.

'I know, too, baby. And you were doing so well.'

'I’m sorry.' He says again, barely above a whisper.

You tut at him, moving to press a tender kiss to his forehead.

'It's okay, sweetheart. This time. This time, you'll wait for me.'

[sunlightmurdock]

Ok rooster & mav's daughter...maybe they're just hooking up currently but she's been in the trenches with her feelings for him for yearsss and then he gets hurt or something during training & she's a mess and mav says he's going to be ok but she's so torn up and it forces them to DTR right in front of mav who is confused beyond belief & not angry yet because of the shock

Omg omg yes!! So I’m just imagining a scenario in which Bradley’s in the hospital after a big accident and Maverick has been sat in the waiting area for like eighteen hours straight, waiting for Bradley to be allowed visitors after an emergency surgery

And you’re there sat beside Maverick feeling sick to your stomach because you straight up just almost lost the love of your life and can’t say anything about it, and it’s been absolutely eating you up inside, to the point that you just can’t hold it in anymore.

So finally you let out a really big breath and put your head in your hands and say, “Dad, I need to talk to you about something.”

But maverick is too busy staring at the door to Bradley’s room and gnawing at his nails to notice. So, you try again, just a little louder.

“Dad. I need to talk to you about something important.”

Maverick’s brows crease together as he cranes his neck to watch the doctors speaking together in Bradley’s hospital room. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat and you feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t get this off of your chest.

“Mav. I need to tell you something important, right now.” But it’s too late, because a doctor just left Bradley’s room and Maverick leaps to his feet as they start to walk over to the two of you.

The doctor smiles politely.

“He’s awake, he’s doing well, but he’s very tired from the medication,” And then he turns his attention towards you, smiling sincerely as he nods in your direction. “He’s asking for you.”

And your eyes just go wide. Maverick’s head whips around, looking swiftly between you and the doctor.

“For — For her? — For you? Why would he be asking for you?” Maverick stumbles, the colour draining from his face. He starts speaking faster and faster and you just know that he’s on the verge of losing it.

You’re stuck, holding your breath for a second as you try to figure out how to approach this topic. Unfortunately, you handle stressful conversations about as well as Maverick does, and you pick the ‘rip it off like a band-aid’ approach.

Taking a big, deep breath, you pause for just a second before letting it all go. “I’ve-been-sleeping-with-Rooster-for-a-year-and-a-half. Sorry, dad.”

Maverick is never rendered speechless for long. There’s a split second where he’s shocked into silence, just staring at you, and you use that to your full advantage. He’s left behind as you duck around him and rush for Bradley’s room. He stares back at the doctor in front of them, both dumbfounded by what you just said.

You slow down as you walk into Bradley’s room, sucking in a sharp breath as your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

He smiles weakly, his face battered, bruised and cut up. His hands, his knuckles, his arms. You know he must be in so much pain under all of that morphine. He swallows, “Hey, baby.”

“Rooster, you big dumb idiot.” You whimper, rushing for him and crawling into the bed beside him. He groans softly and you remind yourself to be gentle. You’ve never had to be gentle with him before. “Oh my god, look at you.”

“I’ll be alright.” He tells you, his eyelids heavy from all of the medication that he’s on.

Blinking back tears, you swallow thickly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Bradley’s brows knit together as much as they can without causing pain, he gives a small shake of his head and lifts his hand as much as he can with the broken ribs. You lean closer so that he can hold your cheek in his palm.

“I thought about you. The last thing I remember thinking is that I just couldn’t do this to you.” He admits quietly. You can hear a small tremble in his always strong voice. You look up at him, eyes brimming with tears. Faintly, you can hear Maverick being told to calm down in the hallway. Bradley’s drugged up enough to not have noticed yet.

You lift your hand to touch him and pull it swiftly back to your chest. You’re not sure what you can touch anymore, what won’t hurt.

“I love you.” Bradley mumbles. He takes a big breath, the first one he has been able to take since the accident that isn’t painful. Modern medicine is incredible. His hand drops from your cheek and wraps around yours. You take his hand in both of yours and bring it up to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

“You’re just loopy. It’s okay.” You whisper, hoping that really he isn’t. He closes his eyes and gives a tired shake of his head.

“I feel so fucking tired,” He mumbles. He gives your hand a small squeeze. “Promise you won’t leave.”

Your eyes widen as you hear the door push open behind you. Maverick stands in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you two so close together. He’s still processing.

Slowly, you turn your attention back to Bradley and lift one of your hands to gently smooth his hair back. He leans into your touch.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” You kiss his knuckles softly once more and Bradley hums happily.

“I’m not loopy. I do…” He stops and inhales tiredly, not quite a yawn. He’s beyond exhausted, he doesn’t even notice Maverick’s presence. “I do love you. I have. I did — before this.”

Blinking back tears, you rest your cheek against his hand once more. You lower your voice to a whisper, so that this moment is just for the two of you. “I love you too.”

He’s back to sleep quickly. You stroke softly at his hair, keeping your fingers entwined wit his as you shift delicately to turn around to look at your furious father.

“Not now, Mav.” You breathe out, quiet.

Maverick shakes his head. “No. You’re right. Not now. But we’re going to talk about this. We’re going to have a big conversation about this.”

He walks slowly into the room and settles into the chair beside Bradley’s bed. His hands curl into fists, you watch him prop his chin on one and turn back to check on Bradley.

“He’s lucky he’s already in the hospital.” Maverick mutters bitterly.

“Dad.” You warn, turning quickly and shooting him a swift glare. He sits back and folds his arms over his chest.

[cheollipop]

I have a drabble request for the sleepover, if I may?👀

I literally cannot stop thinking about dom mommy!seonghwa. It's consuming me I wish I was joking. Like the thought of him finding it so amusing how you are immediately putty in his hands as soon as the word mommy slips from his lips uGH. And don't even get me started on reader being in a poly relationship with seonghwa and hongjoong like oK PARENTSSS (apologies, my bias line is showing lmao)

Truly the mother and father of kpop😔

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

why hello there~ I'm not gonna lie, I'm actually not the biggest fan of mommy!idol, but it's you. and it's seonghwa. so of course a scenario popped into my head as soon as I read your ask skjrgsk the nickname is used sparingly, and more of a tool reader uses to get her way, but hopefully it'll have the same effect on whoever's reading lmao. hope you enjoy~

pairing: park seonghwa x fem!reader x kim hongjoong

w.c.: 1.2k

tags: smut, mommy kink, unprotected sex (👎), mentioned edging, creampie kink, hongjoong likes to watch ^^, and instruct ^^, and is a pervert!!!, seonghwa's whipped, fr can't resist reader so... hehe

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

“Fuck, Hwa. I’m so close,” you dug your chin into the duvet under you, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bed where Seonghwa kept jolting you towards. But then the cock pounding into you slipped out, leaving you empty and leaking once again, bucking your hips back into open air. “No. No, Hwa, please-”

“You know the rules, princess,” the deep baritone rumbled in your ear, plush lips leaving a trail of kisses from your cheekbone to your temples. “Not until he tells you to.”

Grabbing your jaw, Seonghwa angled your head towards the man sitting on the cushioned armchair across from you, his crossed legs failing at concealing the prominent bulge at his crotch. Hongjoong peered back at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched your face fall, another orgasm dwindling away and leaving your pussy throbbing with need. The way in which he cast his eyes over you—lidded and brimming with desire—made you realize that no begging would allow you the reprieve you desperately sought out, that he was in the mood to watch you reach the brink of delirium before any instruction favourable to you would leave his parted lips.

So you turned to the person who would, craning your neck to search his face for any minor twitch indicating his surrender, but he remained stern, watching you lose hope and wondering how much longer it’ll take you to succumb to their wicked form of torture.

“Please fuck me,” you whispered, pushing your ass back onto his crotch and watching his eyelids flutter at the friction. “I’ve been good, mommy.”

You stopped the corners of your lips from curling at the obvious signs of victory. Hongjoong flinched in your peripherals, your eyes and his fixed on the man behind you, the heavy, slick length of his cock throbbing eminently where it sat snug between your cheeks. A single nickname rendering Seonghwa speechless, consuming him with burning want, erasing the dominant figure trying to catch his attention from the other side of the room and focusing solely on you.

Blown-out pupils and a line of drool drying over your skin, Seonghwa counted three stunted inhales before sinking back into your welcoming heat, watching you flop back onto the bed before digging his nails into your hips. Flicking his eyes upwards, he met with dark irises staring right back at him, as though in some kind of warning.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong cautioned.

“She’s right, Joong. She’s been good,” leaning over your body, Seonghwa pressed his cheek to your temple, sliding his hand under your chin to hold your face up for the younger man, squishing your cheeks together to muffle your pathetic moans. “So fucking good for mommy,” he nuzzled his nose into your heated skin, “mommy wants to give his pretty girl a reward for being so patient.”

“Is that all it takes? She calls you mommy once and you lose all composure?” He taunted, propping an elbow onto the armrest to tap his forehead with his pointer. “So desperate to have her come on your cock already?”

Seonghwa’s eyebrow flinched, a snarky retort about to roll off his tongue, but a whimpered “mommy, please” sounded from below, and it blew away the very last fuck he gave about Hongjoong’s little game.

Straightening up and rolling his head back, he drove his cock into you, the sound of skin-on-skin reverberating between the four walls, and the dense scent of sex bordered on suffocating. Realising that Seonghwa would no longer listen to him, Hongjoong’s eyes locked on yours, not breaking contact even while he undid his belt, and unbuttoned the luxury pants. He made sure you watched his every move as he slowly began fucking up into his fist, leaking cock making a mess of his clothes, translucent drops of precum painting the expensive Balmain, and you took in the pretty shade of rose spreading down his neck to the sliver of chest peeking at you through the undone buttons of his blouse. Even when pleasure pulled your eyelids shut, high-pitched moans dampened by the drool-soaked duvet, Hongjoong’s eyes never moved off you, taking in how your body convulsed when skilled fingers found your clit, Seonghwa’s body enveloping yours once again.

“My good girl, c’mon, say it. Ask mommy nicely,” he panted, cock twitching uncontrollably while he fucked into you, angling his thrusts towards your g-spot and groaning into your ear whenever your walls clenched around him.

“Please, please, mommy, ‘wanna come so bad,” you begged, rutting back to meet his thrusts halfway.

You glanced over at the man running his fingers over his cock to the scene unfolding before him—his two partners fucking like animals in heat, disregarding his presence while they panted and groaned, leaking slick and precum all over the expensive sheets. But you noticed the way his cock jumped at your words, the way the red tinting his skin deepened, and his breath shallowed. Because underneath the designer clothing and high-end makeup, Kim Hongjoong was a pervert. A man who loved filth.

As you neared the edge of your orgasm, Seonghwa’s rhythm faltered, growing sloppy as your heat overwhelmed him and drove him to the brink of madness. And despite the pleasure burning through your veins, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man getting off on the vulgar show you were acting out for him. Sweat-coated skin reflecting the warm light filtering through the lampshades, Seonghwa’s airy moans masking over the lewd squelch of your used pussy, a stream of your arousal and the cum he began pumping into you beginning to ooze out, further drenching the linen under you. Even while Seonghwa slobbered all over your neck, mumbling raspy words of praise into your damp skin, your attention fixed on the man sat across from you, now covered in ropes of his own cum. His hand continued to squeeze around his softening base, and you could see the subtle twitches in his defined thighs as he overstimulated himself.

Slowly, you sat yourself up with shaky thighs, possessive arms wrapping around your middle to support you. Noting how Hongjoong’s eyes glided down your body to watch the thick surge of cum cascading down your inner thighs, your cunt still squeezing around Seonghwa’s thick cock, you relaxed back against the firm chest behind you. It took the other man a few seconds to snap his eyes back to your face, relaxing his grip around his twitching length when he noticed the two pairs of eyes following the movement. You giggled breathily, amused by his sudden change in demeanour, knowing just how much he enjoyed observing Seonghwa while he stuffed you full, following the stream of hot cum seeping out of you before fucking it back into your stretched hole, raw and dirty, until your belly bulged with their combined seed.

Strong hands grabbed the backs of your knees, sliding you legs out from under you until you laid bare and open in front of Hongjoong. Your head rested on Seonghwa’s thigh, legs on either side of you body, and your cunt—gaping and spitting out dribbles of his cum—presented in front of the seated man. You wondered why he was the one who seemed to be timid in this situation, but it brought a smile to your face, your voice honeyed and playful when you spoke as next words,

“Does Joongie ‘wanna make a mess out of his good girl too?”

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (2)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 3K

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, attempted murder?

PART 2 ✧˖°.

The ground was a soothing anchor for your rampant thoughts which all seemed to recede as you laid on the plush grass, its touch on your skin soothing. The stars reflected in your eyes, spanning as far as the eye could see, only obstructed by the mountain ranges surrounding you, capped with ice that shone under the twinkling night sky. The breeze kissed your cheeks and rustled the leaves on the trees that lined the lake gurgling few feet away from you, the sound of ripples caused by the breeze a tranquil sound in your ears. If you weren't already dreaming you would have succumbed to a peaceful slumber long ago. But as a matter of fact you were, and it was no mistaking that, provided you always dreamt of this scenic place. Regardless of the time of the day or the night, you always found yourself here, in midst of what you could only call 'a slice of heaven'. You buried your fingers in the grass, exhaling a deep breath of contentment and let your eyelids droop down, embracing the sound of the howling wind muffled by the river's constant churning. Hours passed by and the dark slowly began to fade away, the sky preparing itself for sunrise. Soon it would be time for you to wake up, you thought dismally. You felt a gaze on you and your eyes opened to catch a blur of darkness staring at you but it only remained a blur because when you blinked it was gone. 'Strange,' you mused to yourself. No one had ever crossed your path here. From the beginning of time, or well the beginning of the past four years when you had stumbled across the agency, you had always been here alone. Just as you began convincing yourself that it was just a trick played by the light, your alarm rang throughout the vast expanse. 

"Ugh," you groaned as you slammed the alarm clock, probably fracturing it a bit.

But it was of no use as the awfully cheery voice of Charles greeted your ears, "Wakey wakey sunshine, the day is new."

He opened the blinds to your window and piercing sunlight entered your eyes.

"Mate are you trying to blind me?" You grumbled in your pillow, turning your head in the other direction. 

"Come on! Wake up," Charles pulled your blanket away.

You opened one eye and squinted at your phone screen, "It is 7 in the morning there is absolutely no reason for any man or ghost to be happy and have that amount of energy at this hour.”

"The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. It's the best time to live life.”

"Yeah coming from a ghost.”

Your back creaked under the weight of Charles' body as he tried to annoy you into getting up by imparting physical pain. 

"Get off me, you creature!" You mindlessly grabbed his face with your nails but he pinned your arms behind your back.

You tried to wiggle your way free but in vain, "Get. Off. Me."

"Only if you get up as soon as I release you.”

Rendered optionless you huffed, "fine you arse.”

Charles freed his hold on you and you sat up, rubbing your eyes hoping to rid the exhaustion away. 

"Good morning," Charles smiled. 

"Morning," you yawned. 

"Breakfast is getting cold!" Edwin's voice boomed through your apartment. 

"Be right there," you called back. 

You stepped down from your bed and made your way to the bathroom when you halted in your tracks, your reflection peered at you, an enraged expression on its face. Your t-shirt was soiled with blood, your favourite t-shirt. You had almost forgotten about that and you sent a 'I will butcher you alive' actually more like 'I will butcher your ghost' look in Charles' direction who seemed to discern it very well because he wasted not a second in dashing out of your room.

Your coffee mug stared at you, your hands enclosed around it with their initial purpose of warming themselves made useless with your coffee now cold. The contents swirled inside, undissolved sugar twinkling amidst the dark liquid, reminding you of your dream and the odd addition to it last night.

"You okay?" Edwin's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine."

"So is the coffee that bad?"

"Eh it’s passable," you scrunched your nose. 

"Edwin I for one think it surpasses excellence," Charles piped in.

"Calm down dude he is not handing out golden stars.”

Charles' only reply was a scowl.

"Thankyou Charles,” Edwin placed his hand on the brunette ghost beside him. 

"Get a room." It was your turn to scowl, earning looks from both of them.

You gulped your coffee down and collected the utensils to deposit them in the sink while the boys pushed the chairs back and rearranged the furniture slightly for what was to follow. 

"I guess we are ready," Edwin spoke and you used that as a cue to open the doors.

"And so we begin.” 

The clicking of your pen echoed in the room. You were half in your chair, while your upper half was rested against the table, eyes boring into the ceiling. 

"Since when did ghosts become so lame?" Charles spoke from his place, legs crossed on the table, touching your head and an apple and a knife in his hand.

It was 4 hours since you opened the gates to the ghosts to hear out their woes and help them cross into a peaceful afterlife. But none of them had presented a case worth pursuing, for all you three wanted more than aiding the distressed was an adventure, an adrenaline rush, gears put to work inside the brain. Yet today every case was solved by asking a few more questions, a remedy supplied by Edward's intellectual mind or some probing by you. After all ghosts trusted you. 

"Since uh you died," you quipped.

But just as Charles opened his mouth to use whatever comeback he had thought of, the doors opened once again with such gusto that it sent the papers on the table flying.

"You have to help me,” A girl's voice pleaded.

"So this is it," you muttered to your ghost buddies who were currently wearing skins of two police officials as you all watched the scene on the opposite side of the street. 

People in uniform bustled about the scene of the crime which they had ruled a 'suicide'. The parents of the girl who had dropped from the roof were huddled in a corner, fresh tears flowing down their already tear stained faces as her corpse was put into a body bag. Your heart weighed down under the sudden sadness enveloping it. The street was silent except the beeping emitting from the ambulance and police cars. The girl's ghost on the other hand was waiting at your place and you were so grateful for that decision, seeing her own body and her parents so broken would have devastated her.

"God it is horrible," Charles voiced aloud your thoughts.

"Come on Charles," Edwin said in a startling female voice. 

"God Charles why do you always have to make him a woman?"

"It suits him," he drawled.

"More like suits your fantasies huh?" 

You were met by Edwin's soft blow on your head, "ow sorry.”

"Ok Hazel, Charles and I will question the victim's parents and provide you with an opportunity to sneak inside. Search the building for any signs of a ghost and wait for us to join you. Be careful, she seemed pretty intent that she didn't commit suicide."

You were about to nod when you caught a glimpse of dark hair retreating behind the house as if you had caught them watching you. 

"Hazel?"

"Huh.” You looked up at Edwin. 

"Is the plan clear to you?" 

"Crystal."

Who was that guy? It eerily reminded you of the blur of darkness in your dream. You tucked your curiosity away for later and brought your focus on the case. It's more important right now.

"Hello?" you called out into the scaffolding. It seemed their house was going through renovation when the incident happened. You shuddered when the images of her parents popped up in your mind.

A clank of metal made you whip your head around. It was nothing, just a piece of construction metal had fallen down. The ground floor provided with no clues, no proof of anything paranormal so you approached the staircase leading upstairs. Sun shone bleakly through the crevices of the area of the house that was being reconstructed. You gripped the banister and began climbing. Wait, was that? Surely not? But as you neared the landing the unmistakable sound of whimpering reached you. They had the entire house cleared right?  No one was supposed to be here. Not someone living atleast. The thud of your boots on the wooden floor quieted the whimpers. Should have worn sneakers, I knew it. 

Still you were determined to find the source of the whimpering and you called out into the silence again, "Hello? Is anyone there? I am here to help." 

No reply. You opened the door on your right and scanned the room but no presence was there. Who were you kidding, like luck is something you know.

As you were closing the door, you spotted a figure hunched on their knees in the corner of the room. Luck and you? That was something new. You made your way to them, to her you realised as the distance shortened between you two. 

"Hey, are you okay?" you spoke in a hushed tone, scared you would startle her. 

The girl, just a teenager, tilted her head up at you, her eyes widened, "You-you can see me?" She managed out.

She had the same auburn hair as the ghost at your apartment and the same dip in her nose.

"Are you a ghost?" She bit her lips.

"I can sweetheart and no I am very much alive, unfortunately."

You bent down to her level, "What are you doing here?"

Your soft tone was merely your politeness, giving her the illusion of choice when you knew she had no other option than to answer your question. 

Another whimper escaped her and she opened her mouth when Charles voice rumbled from downstairs, "Hazel?"

You turned your head away and called his name back, "I am up here!" 

But when you looked back, the girl was gone. You swiveled your head around trying to locate her but there was no sight of her. 

Footsteps grew louder until they reached you and Edwin's voice said, "It's messier than we imagined."

"Yeah?" you asked absentmindedly.

"Turns out the folks outside had two daughters. And guess what happened to the other?" Charles joined the conversation.

Both of them had shed their disguises.

"She died.”

"She die-" Edwin stopped midway.

"How do you know?" He perked his eyebrow.

"Because I think I just saw her.”

"What?" Both of them exclaimed in unison. 

"But how is that possible? She died 5 years ago." 

"Must be one hell of an unfinished business,” you shrugged.

"Isn't it weird that the sister never mentioned her? Like I don’t know about people but if I had a dead sibling who died in the same spot I did, I would atleast mention it," Charles reasoned. 

"God knows man.” You rubbed your forehead.

"Thanks but I do not.” 

You only rolled your eyes at his response, mind too occupied connecting the pieces. "We have to find the girl. She was just here."

"Seems the right course of action to do. Let's split up."

You both nodded in reply to Edwin and went your paths. You searched room after room without any result. 

You began your way back when you spotted him. "Edwin? Charles?" You called to the stoic figure at the end of the corridor. “Is that you?"

But the black robes, the wild mop of the darkest hair, and the air around him that seemed to tingle with his presence was reply enough for you. 

"Who are you?" The words left your lips.

But in the blink of an eye, same as in your dream, he vanished, leaving a befuddled you behind. What the fuck just happened?

You turned around only to be met by the suicide girl who actually did have a name. "Oh hi Aura. What-what are you doing here?"

"I am sorry, I just couldn't wait on my own, wondering-what-that I-"

"I get it.” You quelled her unnecessary rambling. "You can stay here with us and help us locate your sister." 

"My-my sister?" Her eyes widened in fear?

"Yes," you said hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell us about her?"

"It can't be. No no no-" she backed into a corner. 

"Aura?" you voice was laced with concern and caution.

"Hazel! You won't fucking believe this." Charles approached you, slightly out of breath and froze when he saw the auburn hair.

"Hazel- get away from her," he said sternly. 

Confusion must be evident on your face because he repeated his words. "Get away from her, she murdered her sister."

What?

"No no! She is lying!" the ghost screamed, "That prick is lying!"

Charles wasted no second in divulging into his backpack to procure shackles that could bind any ghost, except the one using them.

Before you could ask Aura the question yourself to confirm the truth, she lunged for you. You kicked her in the chest and ran forward but her hands clamped against your mouth, a cool metal blade pressed against the skin of your neck. Where the fuck did she get a knife from? Oh Charles' bloody apple.

"You use that on me, and I won't hesitate to have her join this ghost party."

"Aura," Charles warned. 

Her grip tightened and Charles faltered, "ok ok ok, here." He put the shackles back. "Just let her go."

"Stay there,” she ordered. 

"Please, just let her go," his voice quaked.

She retreated back, the knife still on your throat, towards the stairs. If only you could free your mouth from her grasp. Charles moved forward. 

"Don't you dare," she seethed.

She reached the stairs and you hoped she'd let you go now. But she grinned toothily and slashed her knife across your neck. A clank, a thud. But all you could process was the droplets of blood dripping down as you fell to the floor. Charles was beside you in two quick strides.

His tone was urgent, "are you okay?"

"To be honest I thought cutting your neck would be a much bloodier disaster.”

"It's because you didn't cut your fucking neck you idiot," he chuckled softly. 

But the blood? You brought your hands to your cheek and the blood smeared your fingers, it was just a scratch. 

"But how?" You sat up. 

"I have no freaking clue. It just happened. One second I thought you were going to die and the next-” He looked down where the stairs ended. 

Aura's body was lying on the ground. Unconscious. And there seemed to be...sand? around her. 

Your bones clunked against each other at the crushing embrace of Charles' hug. 

"Oh you sappy boy.” You ruffled his hair. 

He pulled back, his eyes weary with emotion. 

You took his hand. “I love you too idiot.” 

You both smiled at that. 

"Right I better shackle her incase you know, the maniac wakes up.”

"Sounds alright, I will go check up on Edwin.”

"He is on the roof with the little sister.”

You made your way up onto the roof. Edwin seemed to be talking gently with her, trying to coax out the details of her murder and her sister's. Right  you still had no idea who murdered Aura.

"Finally, what on Earth took you so lo-" Edwin's gaze fixated on your cheek. "What happened?"

"All sorted.”

Edwin accepted your answer hesitantly. Then said, "I am afraid I give up. She is all yours.”

You went to the scared teenager and asked her, "will you tell me what happened?"

"So let me just get this straight. Aura murdered her sister accidentally 5 years ago. And then her sister murdered her as revenge yesterday," Charles stated in disbelief.

"Precisely.”

"That's what I suppose healthy family relations look like. I am so envious," Charles said.

"Boy do they give greek mythology some competition," you added.

The three of you turned around, now a safe distance from Death's grasp and waited for her to reap the two souls. Soon, the air tickled with electricity, pronouncing her entrance. It strangely reminded you of the man in the corridor. It was always so surreal to see Death do her work. Blue light coated the roof in an ethereal glimmer as she took the scared soul perched on it to the sunless lands. She had accepted her flaws and fate and the price to be paid had lightened. The wings flew downwards where Aura was shackled and a surprising red painted the windows, perhaps the darkest shade you had witnessed till now. You knew her redemption wouldn't be pleasant but that seemed a tad extreme. The slight quiver in the boys beside you meant they thought the same. 

"That...was something." 

"Something might be an understatement," you spoke.

"Well job officially jobbed," Charles concluded.

You were tidying up your bed to make space for yourself, sleep a welcoming pull in your body. After a refreshing bath and some horrific birdshit Charles had cooked up that was meant to taste like potatoes according to him, you were ready to give in to your exhaustion. Your hair was still wet against your skin, the cool touch pleasing. You went to the mirror, taking some ointment in your fingers for your cheek and looked up to find a set of dark eyes on you in the mirror's glass. You whipped around, the tube falling to the floor and finally saw the mysterious stranger in full light. Black coat brushing the floor, hair equally black and eyes even darker, matching the night sky outside your window. 

His lips parted, "Hello Hazel."

A/N: i know there is a profound lack of dream atp but dw it has just started. and edwin and charles are aged up in this story to be in their early 20s. well technically they are decades old but even in their ghost form they are just not teenagers to me ahsk.

SERIES MASTERLIST✧˖°

[marigold-hills]

June 25: curls | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 614

NOTE: NSFW, explicit, minors do not interact etc

PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

In the dying light of the day Remus is bathed in gold as Sirius pushes him down onto the bed. Goes easily, no resistance and no hesitation, haloed with the setting sun.

Let me curl into you, Sirius thinks, let me climb into the spaces between your ribs and hold your heart in the palm of my hand, your lungs between my teeth.

“You’re so beautiful, my star,” Moony says, voice like a gust of night wind.

Sirius wants to tell him so are you, so pretty, look at you, but the words get lodged somewhere in his chest at the sight: Moony, curls a disarray on Sirius’ pillow, lines of him all soft and pliant. The divot in his hips where Sirius is sat astride. All the hard angles of bones, just there for Sirius to dig into – fingers or nails or teeth.

“Are you…” he asks and falters, because it’s too much, he’s too much.

But Remus, as always, there to answer: “am I what, love?”

“Mine?”

Remus grips onto his thighs, hands with no hesitation. “Always,” he says, like it’s nothing – or rather like it’s the easiest thing.

Sirius kisses him. Licks the sharp edge of his jaw. Pushes his fingers under the hem of Remus’ thin shirt, the skin there new to him. “Let me taste you here,” presses his hand down to Remus’ hipbone.

It’s nothing more than a whine that answers him - he’s reached the limit of Moony’s control. Something akin to a yes and a nod, more enthusiastic than coordinated. Remus watches him move down his body the way an arsonist watches a forest fire, wide-eyed and awe-filled. Sirius is a wild man, an arrogant man. Adoration so pure and obvious lights him like a blaze.

Moony (his, his, finally just his) curls his hands into fists when Sirius’ lips touch his hip. (Sirius thinks yes, remembers a dream he spent exploring this part of Remus’ body. It’s even better like this, the halted breathing, the sunlight bathing them both aglow.

Gets bold. Gets greedy. Doesn’t deserve this, done nothing to earn it but he’ll be damned if he lets Remus go now. Will make him feel so good he’ll never want to leave.

Fingers skimming the edge of Remus’ trousers, he looks up to ask for permission and gets it before the question can leave him. Pushes the clothes down, away, until Remus is bare for him.

Mouth latched onto Remus’ thigh, the delicate skin on the inside of it, fingers gripping the other: that’s what it takes for Remus to let go and bury his fingers in Sirius’ hair. “Pull it,” he says, although he didn’t mean to; Remus does, and the burn is beautiful.

It empties his brain. Renders him quiet. Sirius lifts into the touch and wants to bite, to fill his mouth with Remus until he’s the only taste left. Does it, without preamble or pretence, moans around the cock in his mouth, gags when it hits his throat.

“You’re too good to me, mo réalta,” his Moony tells him, but he sounds all together too coherent, and Sirius wants to break that.

A man with purpose – catalogues each response he gets, learns how to make Remus unravel, then does it – again and again, until there is a hand pulling him away and Remus is giving him a warning and Sirius thinks no, I want you, all of you, let me, but it’s too late – Remus uses his own hand to finish, cum stains his stomach.

Give me more of you, give me everything. Sirius pulls Remus into him, holds him tightly. Feels the convulsions of each aftershock: I did that.

moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies @alltoounwellll @hunnybeemarie @hoje--aqui @annaliza999 @hihimissamericanbi @gipitothefrog @shamelesswolfstarshipper @a-pine-cone @cosmicweeds @cocoabutterandbooks @bloodoffire @residentdisaster @shamelesswolfstarshipper @ravenwordss @prancingpony42 @themoonlovesthestars @starving-marauder-lover @weirdtinkerbellversion @deadcupcakehere @theprettieststarfr

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

[deviouz]

. . . stuck between a rock and a hard place

still not over the shadowheart + astarion sandwich thing, so i dumped my brain into this post. do not perceive me !!

astarion who has to keep you pinned against his chest, wrists cradled in one of his hands while the other rests against your hip, rubbing his thumb into the smoothness of your plush skin. he’s kissing along the column of your throat, the sharpness of his incisors occasionally peeking through to graze across your neck just to see you jump, feel your heartbeat quicken. he’s whispering praise after praise, rendering you speechless and a mess of incoherent babbles.

shadowheart is cruel with her thrusts, hips pistoning into your hard enough to bruise. she’s got one of your legs curled around her waist, the other pressed cruelly against your chest — dark eyes daring you to move. she’d love to do nothing more than put you in your rightful place, kneeling before her with the most deliciously submissive of expressions carved into your angelic features. corrupting you had been so fun. you practically worshipped the ground she and astarion walked on, desperate for their attention and touch at all times.

as you gasp out, body strung tightly and mind blank. you were a mess of broken pleas and sobs of pleasure, shuddering and writing about as if you were torn between a desperate need for more and the need to hide away because it was all too much. astarion held you closer, a hand sliding over your chest to rest at the base of your neck. as he kissed up your neck, pulling your lolled head to the side so he could access more skin, his fingers pressed into your neck as a test. “keep still, darling. you can do that for us, can’t you? such a good girl for us.”

one of shadowheart’s hands come down to cup your breast, a wicked smile curling onto pretty rosey lips as she twists your nipple with a laugh. she revels in the way you squeak, pressing further into the comforting embrace of the vampire wrapped around you. he shushes you, filling your senses with praises, curls dancing across your skin. shadowheart’s thrusts have your eyes rolling back, harsh enough to have you wondering if you’d be able to walk after all was said and done. when she got into these moods, the need to dominate and turn you into a brainless, mewling toy for her to break, you hardly ever came out of it unscathed. “good? gods, don’t fill her brain with that nonsense, astarion. i haven’t heard so much as a ‘thank you’ fall from her lips tonight. i’d hardly call that good.”

upon hearing that, a slew of ‘thank you’s’ began to tumble through kiss-swollen lips. shadowheart was more than willing to leave you on the cusp of orgasm, refusing your release as means of punishment. it had happened time and time before, and not even batting your eyelashes and begging oh-so-prettily had convinced astarion to grant you reprieve.

“don’t be so cruel, shadowheart. i’m not sure if i can possibly bear another one of her desperate little ploys, as endearing as it is.”

the way shadowheart and astarion spoke about you as if you weren’t even there had you clenching around the faux-cock nestled deep within you, filling you to the brink and bumping against that spongey spot with every other thrust. you were so, so close. high pitched moans and broken whimpers gave that much away. you prayed shadowheart was feeling forgiving.

you could have cried when shadowheart’s hand trailed along your thigh, immediately going to thumb at your engorged heat. soaked wasn’t the proper word to describe what you had done to the plush bed; wetness dripped down, trailing down your folds and the bottoms of your ass to add to the puddle beneath you. it was humiliating.

it wasn’t long before an orgasm wracked throughout your writhing body. it had you damn near screaming, head thrown back and nails digging into your palms with a sharp bite. astarion intertwined his fingers with yours, sweetly kissing along your shoulder as shadowheart fucked you through the overwhelming pleasure of it all. the curl of her lips had your heart thrumming impossibly faster, all mischievous and mean.

“oh, you couldn’t possibly have thought that i’d stop after just one, did you?” came a sharp tongue, “we’re going to be here all night, darling.”

[obsidiangravity]

Nikto Gets A Cat

I saw this lovely artwork by @quimera-cami and it possessed me to drop all other WIP to write this.

Summary - Spetsnaz are tasked with guarding a remote location. Can’t ask for a simpler operation really. The only downside for Nikto is having to endure the stifling presence of his teammates. Maintaining what’s left of his sanity in such a tiny house is an exhausting challenge, but at least they all get their own sleeping quarters.

Until Rodion returns from a weekly grocery run with a companion.

Word count - 3.9k

Tags - Fluff, Alcohol, Nikto being nice.

It’s no secret to the closest people in Nikto’s life that he despises cats.

The incessant calls for attention. The hair that seems to overrun everything one owns. Their need to mark and ruin upholstery. His disdain for those common house pets are seen as irrational. Perhaps it's a childhood trauma long forgotten, the unsavoury memories regarding these animals locked away in the dark corners of his mind.

But he disagrees. The extreme hatred is warranted. How could it not? What do they provide other than misery and annoyance. He’s grateful to have been spared the torment of living around one since he joined the military over a decade ago.

So the man is rendered temporarily speechless and imobile when Rodion calls out from behind him on the armchair, “Look at what I found outside the supermarket!” and five kilograms of hissing fluff and fury is dumped on his thighs. 

The feline snarls and bares its teeth at the person that dropped it. Long razor-sharp claws dig into Nikto’s flight suit, poking his skin.

He winces, gaze narrowing at the youngest Russian. “What the fuck is this?”

“Mm, it’s a cat,” Rodion mumbles over a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie as he searches for the TV remote and brushes stray crumbs onto the ground. It makes Nikto’s fingers twitch. “Siberian I think?”

Dmitry looks up from his task of chopping potatoes in the scantily sized kitchen, amusement ghosting the corner of his eyes. “Oh, it could be, but they are usually a little bigger, no?”

The cat, in a blur of unruly fur, launches itself off Nikto's lap, nails screeching and scraping the wooden floorboards as it skitters across like one of those rats caught out in the light in this shithole of a house. In a second, the creature vanishes behind a doorway to a bedroom. The one belonging to Maxim.

Rodion clucks his tongue. “Well, someone tell Maxim he has a new roommate when he’s back from patrol.”

An acidic scowl is hidden behind his balaclava when Nikto notices the strands of hair and filth left on his uniform. “Are you soft in the head? Why did you bring it here?”

“Saw her scavenging in the garbage as I was about to return. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Get rid of it, or I will shoot it.” His voice low and coarse. It is the only response Nikto gives before he stands up, readying to leave for a shift change with Maxim.

Nikto returns twelve hours later after a quiet night, slips out of his worn leather boots to find his single bed occupied.

The feline saw fit to curl up on it and rub dirt on his clean white blankets and pillows. Of course it would be in here, his room is the only empty one.

He’s able to get a better look at it as it sleeps. Dust clings to its matted and tangled cream-coloured fur. Its scrawny figure and ribs are barely concealed by its thick coat. Thin, elegant, almost silver whiskers a contrast to the extremely bushy unkempt tail.

Three small lines of scar run from its right cheek to its velvet-like ear. This is no pampered house pet, it may have been once, however those times were long gone.

He lightly shoos the cat away. It startles from peaceful sleep and hisses, tries to gouge his hand with the tiny daggers on its fingertips, but ultimately scampers off and hides under the bed.

Nikto sighs, long and drawn out. Questioning if he should bother using the back of his rifle like a stick to force it out of his room. He reaches for it, then decides it’s not worth potentially hurting himself from an accidental discharge.

He flips the switch off and collapses on the mattress.

~~~

He wakes up before everyone else again, the sun heating his face through the dusty window. Nikto blinks against the early morning rays and stretches his stiff muscles with a content groan. His toes collide with something furry and soft, and that brief moment of peaceful serenity is disrupted by a sharp scratch to his bare calf.

The half asleep man jerks away from the sting — accidently rolling off the bed. A shoulder and knee takes the full brunt of the fall and the greater pain jolts him fully awake, a “Blyat,” escaping his scarred lips.

The feral animal dashes around the small room, emerald eyes wide, fangs showing and claws unsheath. It howls and arches its back as it realises its trapped between the closed door and him.

Nikto scrambles to his feet, swearing a string of colourful curses that echo against the concrete walls. His jaw tightens. He wonders if he can turn the doorknob to kick it outside without being inflicted with any more injuries.

Goosebumps form on his arms when a deep rumble emits from it, as if it’s charging up an attack. He eyes the AK-47 propped against the wall on the other side of the room. Of course the one time he leaves a firearm out of reach is when he needs it most.

Tentatively, he takes a step forward and in a whirlwind, the infernal creature resumes its frantic scrambling.

It throws itself up onto the bed, rumpling the messy sheets further and jumps on his nightstand. In its rampage of destruction, it knocks the full bottle of vodka over.

It shatters loudly on the oak floor. Large and tiny shards of glass scatter in all directions as the liquid seeps through the planks.

Nikto, who is usually able to repress his anger and known for his stoic composure, lets his vision go red and a roar of unrestrained rage erupts.

He will gut this mangy stray then dump its entrails on Rodion for putting him through this. He has done far worse for less.

The bedroom door creaks open and Devil Incarnate finally dashes out.

A dishevelled Maxim peeks his head and a broad shoulder in, sleep clouding his eyes. “Can you not make so much fucking noise this early?” Then his gaze shifts to the spilled alcohol and groans. “You’re not wasting anymore of the vodka again,” he says and slams the door shut with a resounding thud before Nikto could redirect his fury at him.

He is left to simmer in the aftermath and he swears to drag Rodion’s face across the broken glass if that imbecile doesn’t clean this up.

~~~

It seems an illness has overtaken his comrades.

With its fur clean and brushed, they dote on the cat at every chance it decides to show itself. Regal grace that laid beneath the grime is now allowed to shine. It moves with the arrogance that all cats possess as it struts around the house.

“Oh, what a cute kitten.”

“Look at its shiny gemstone eyes! What a pretty girl.”

Running their fingers through the fur as they coo and play with it. All three of them mull over what to name it. As if it’s a newborn baby and they’re first time parents.

“How about Mishka?” Dmitry asks as he strokes its back. “Look at its silky coat! Nikto, you have to feel this.”

Maxim scratches his stubble. “I prefer Nina.”

“Satan,” Nikto offers, gaze not leaving his book.

“It’s a girl,” Rodion’s faraway voice interjects from the bedroom.

“Baba Yaga.”

“Doesn’t really suit her… Princess?” Maxim suggests.

Nikto flicks to the next page. “Gluttony.”

“I think Anastasia fits this beauty.”

“Garbage Eater.”

That night, he pulls the covers over him with the feline nowhere in sight.

But dawn finds that yet again the whiskered intruder found its way onto the bed near his feet.

Less scratching and hissing this time. He’s able to expel it with only an attempted swat at his arm and minimal destruction. No caterwauls of wildness, or pointed teeth and claws tearing at his blankets thankfully.

~~~

They take pictures and record videos of the nuisance doing the most inane drivel and send them to each other, including Nikto. As if he can’t see the damned cat himself. At this rate, they would probably snap an image of its excrements and praise it for defecating outside by the end of the week.

The cat takes the greatest liking to Dmitry. It’s no mystery why. Twirling about his legs for food at all hours of the day that it’s not sleeping.

And the meowing.

It doesn’t shut up. Always whining, always mewling. Like an alarm siren demanding more and more meals.

The short period where it is not doing that, usually when one of the Bale brothers has the little gremlin on their lap, massaging the soft fur around its ears  — it purrs loudly. Impeccably imitating a broken lawnmower.

Nikto has no trouble tolerating most discomforts — the filthiness of a barracks, the lack of sleep during a long operation, numbness from the biting cold of Russian winters. He would endure all of it again over this.

Nobody else seems to be agitated by it. Madness has infected everyone but him. No longer can Nikto read a book or relax with a good bottle of vodka in peace. He enjoyed his lone shifts a little more than the rest of the team before. Solitude is always freeing. 

Now, it’s his only solace for true rest.

His equipment, his bed, the whole house, is filled with stray strands of fur. Irritating his nostrils and ruining his clothes. He briefly considers murdering the cat and the idiot that brought it home when he finds a nonhuman hair in his half eaten soup.

The last straw that solidifies their insanity to him is when the living embodiment of chaos vomits a wet furball on the sofa.

They will throw the cat out now for sure. Nikto has no doubts about it.

Except, that does not happen.

They did not throw the cat out.

They mutter words of comfort and pat it on the back, cleans up the mess and offers it a treat.

Nikto occasionally catches the feline watching him from some dimly lit corner. A spark of intelligence in its big round eyes. As if it secretly taunts him, before prowling away.

The following night, he scours his room, getting on all fours to check under his creaking bed frame. His bloodshot eyes strains against the darkness and finds only dust bunnies. No furry form with a demonic glint in its jade irises. Satisfied, he switches off the light and crawls in, the chill of the night seeps through the small crack in the window.

Yet, come morning, the relentless animal inhabits his sheets, purring with satisfaction.

It amazes him that it is able to burrow up so close as he slept again — with him being none the wiser, considering how much of a light sleeper he is. Nikto makes a mental note to seal the window. Clearly the sliver of opening for fresh air is too much to ask for.

He lets out a bone weary sigh, running a hand over his scarred face and rubs his temple. It can stay for now.

It’s not being overtly infuriating. It barely takes up any space. The man observes its sleek fur shining almost golden in the sunlight. Is it as soft as they all say it is?

He reaches for it, his fingers lightly brushes its tail and it lets out a groan of discontent, hopping off the bed, onto the windowsill. It slinks away, landing on the bushes outside.

Nikto watches the raised fluffy tail disappear past the treeline and he pushes the pane fully shut with a resounding snap for tonight.

“She’s nearly done with her moult,” Dmitry comments as he sweeps the tumbleweeds of fur out the front door. There are clumps of it stuck on foliage, mixing with the twigs and leaves.

It’s visually revolting.

When asked why he doesn't simply throw it in the trash, Dmitry says it makes the birds happy to use it for their nests. 

Birds don’t nest this close to winter, you moron. Nikto would have loved to retort, only, he realises he doesn’t have the energy for it anymore.

The one upside to the neverending mountain of inconveniences is there seems to be a decrease of rat sightings inside. Perhaps, it’s not as lazy as Nikto originally thought.

He scowls at the empty packet of potato chips left by Rodion on the coffee table. The cat is now far from being the most useless individual in the house.

He lies awake in his bed, watching the shadows of the tree branch right outside his window dance on the wall as the wind jostles it. Sleep has trouble taking him like most days.

As he is about to drift into unconsciousness, an ear grating yowl echoes in the living room through the walls, loud enough to wake the dead.

Nikto huffs and rolls onto his stomach.

It continues. The sounds of the kitchen’s trash can being rummaged and the occasional meow of discontent prevents him from dozing off.

He’s determined to ignore it, maybe yell at someone else to feed it but realises it’s probably useless. Dmitry can sleep through a bombing. Maxim is likely comatose from drinking and nothing less than a gunshot will wake him.

He sits up, fingers reaching for his balaclava, fully intending to throw some biscuits in its food bowl so it can leave him alone.

The moment he pries open the door, the feline sprints in and beelines underneath his mattress.

Nikto narrows his eyes, tired brain is slow to process what exactly occurred. A defeated exhale leaves his lips and pushes his door shut, returning to bed.

He has grown to expect the cat to claim the territory beside his left foot and is careful not to nudge it come morning.

~~~

Frantic scratching on worn oak is like fingernails on a chalkboard, agitating Nikto's taut nerves. It wasn't just the sound, but the urgency behind it.

He’s not the only person home, someone else can let it out.

He tries to ignore it and focus on his task. Cleaning firearms is a silent and soothing experience. It helps to clear his mind when he needs it most.

The scraping intensifies.

Nikto unclenches his jaw — gently places down the bolt carrier and oil stained cloth, and stands up.

Boots thudding on the floor as he marches to the source of the noise. 

The cat paws at the front door and wails. Wanting to be let out. It looks at Nikto as he turns the corner. Its face saying, please I need to leave.

I need to leave right now.

He unlatches the steel lock and pulls the door open. The feline hesitates, its miniature nose twitching, testing the cool air and the scents wafting in.

Frosty blue irises flash in anger. “You wanted to leave? Then go!” His free hand gestures to the open space outside.

Seconds stretch into a minute.

It stands there. Peering outside. Then, with a flick of its tail, turns and walks away, returning to its favourite spot on the kitchen counter by the window.

Nikto watches it, a mixture of confusion and realisation settling in his chest. It gives him a side eye that speaks volumes before it lays down and gazes out the glass.

He had served this creature. Catered to her whims. Ungratefulness aside, he feels used.

~~~

Nikto leaves for his shift just like any other night. Familiar weight of his rifle in one hand. Vodka in the other. Stars glittering in the sky.

He settles down at his usual spot in the outpost overlooking the area he’s meant to guard. As he’s about to peel back the fabric of his mask to take a sip, a crunch of dry leaves alerts him to a presence not too far from his left.

Drink forgotten, muscle memory and instincts take over, he raises his gun in the direction of the intruder. Two glowing orbs look back at him, and then an inquisitive meow.

Low and behold, it’s Garbage Eater.

Exasperation washes over him. He lowers his firearm and stares at it.

The cat saunters up to his feet, rubbing its face on his boots.

Nikto silently grieves his allotted hours of privacy robbed away and sits back down. How did it even follow him? He was not as alert as he usually is compared during a mission, but for it to have not been detected since he left the house is a feat.

Surprisingly, it keeps a respectable distance. Choosing to lick its hand an arms length away.

He finally gives in. The Russian reaches out to run a hand over its back. A throaty groan of protest erupts.

Nikto stops. Fair enough. He doesn’t like being touched either.

As the night deepens, he offers little bits of chicken from his food container while they sit in tranquil company together. He will never admit to it if asked, but the presence of decent companionship is something he craves. Dmitry is pleasant and respectful, however he can be a little too worried more often than not. That man is not subtle. Nikto catches every glance of concern, every time his lips pull into a hard line.

Animals don’t do that. They don’t have any questions of his mental state barely held back on the tips of their tongues.

Sometimes when it gets too quiet, his thoughts can be overwhelming. Fragmented memories from his past come slithering back. Lately, he has been unable to keep them at bay.

Every now and then, a new door opens, and he often doesn’t like what comes out of it.

Maybe it senses his mood, or maybe it’s just cold, it inches closer to sit beside him for the remainder of the shift. Its green eyes full of concern.

When they return to the house together, the cat doesn’t have to sneak into his bedroom.

~~~

Tiny gifts in the form of dead rats are deposited in his quarters every so often. He could dispose of it normally, but he throws them into Rodion’s room. It grants Nikto a small bit of satisfaction whenever a screech of disgust sounds throughout the house, usually after that man returns from his shift.

A week passes and Nikto wakes up with a feather duster-like object in his face.

It seems that the cat, perhaps emboldened in the darkness, gained some courage and moved upwards long past midnight. She sneaked up close beside his chest as he was sleeping. Her padded foot, soft and warm, rests against his bicep with an easy pressure, tail tickling his cheeks.

She had stuck to the end of his mattress every day before this.

Her forehead nudges his hand, seeking contact, and she rubs her long whiskers against his open palm.

Sundown arrives sooner, the days grow colder and Nikto quickly discovers she likes to be squashed by his arm.

The cat blinks and carefully leaps over him to situate herself in the small space between him and the wall. She sniffs Nikto’s hand curiously and rubs her cheeks against it before rolling into a ball. He buries his fingers into her soft fur and closes his eyelids.

He knows she only pursues his company for his warmth. He doesn’t mind it. His nail traces patterns in her coat and she stretches languidly. Maybe it's not just her seeking him. Maybe he craves the physical touch too.

It has been too long, he realises, since he has hugged another living thing. To feel the pulsing of a heartbeat against his fingertips. It is not so bad afterall.

The even vibration of her purrs lulls him to a dreamless slumber.

He hears the rhythmic clacking of claws on the hardwood floor before the cat jumps onto the armrest. She puts a gentle paw on Nikto’s forearm and meows.

Nikto hums, the words of his fantasy novel momentarily blurring. “What do you need this time?” he grumbles.

Everyone else left ten minutes ago, a rarity. He has plans to finish this book today.

Unfazed by his hollow annoyance, she steps onto his lap and does a few circles before settling down.

He shifts in his chair, trying to find a position that’s more comfortable for them both. “I’m reading a story, do you want to hear it?”

She looks at him knowingly and yawns. Nikto clears his throat, he begins reading with a soft voice that feels unfamiliar, it has been a long time since he last used this tone.

At some point, her eyes drift close and her breathing deepens, yet he continues.

Nikto couldn't help but see the similarities they share. They both exude an independence born out of necessity. He runs a calloused thumb over her old scars. They’re both survivors. No other person he met has understood it truly. Though with the way she regards him, the reserved man thinks she might.

~~~

Nikto takes the last bottle of Five Lakes on a hunt with him before Maxim could — he can have whatever slop is left.

It’s been years since he had hunted, nevertheless, he still remembers how to track deer and rabbits.

Gloved hand securely clutching the cool glass, he ventures further east.

People argue that vodka isn't for taste. Nikto disagrees. 

He values the smooth, barely detectable flavour, a welcomed change to the generic liquor he usually endured on duty. To him, the subtle burn is appreciated. He doesn’t think his alcoholic comrade can tell the difference.

It’s not that he can’t handle the harsh taste, he would simply rather get drunk with a minimal amount of hangover.

He’s not surprised when he hears the rustle of grass and the well-accustomed to call of his four legged companion behind him after he crouches down to inspect the gnawed on vegetation.

She trots up, her sleek form brushing against his thighs and investigates the leaves, sniffing it with a delicate nose.

“Can you hunt rabbits as well as rats?”

She flicks a ear and chirps in response.

Nikto takes that as a yes.

Undeterred by the distant rumble of thunder above, they proceed further, the sparse canopy offers little protection as tiny droplets soon begin to rain down upon them.

Eventually, the soil grows too damp for her liking and she tries scaling up his leg, tips of her claws latching on to his thigh muscle through the thick fabric.

She advances quickly, her pointed nails has no trouble finding purchase on the straps and gear tied to him. Nikto hisses and grips her to his chest with his forearm before she can make it any higher.

She calms instantly, feeling secured in his solid hold.

The mild drizzle subsides quickly, leaving the forest dripping and smelling of fresh earth. However the once stray Siberian forest cat has no desire to return to the damp ground.

He purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “Fine.”

He can’t use his hunting rifle with one hand and he refuses to let her on his shoulders. Daylight is about to leave anyway. Won’t be a terrible decision to return.

As the sun dips below the horizon, dousing the hills with the warm colour of fire, Nikto observes the sky and settles on the grass, Garbage Eater curling up on his lap in content silence — he thinks that having a pet cat isn’t the worst thing in the world.

[cantstoplovingjude]

Underneath the Black Veil: Jude Jazza Epilogue

This is from Ikemen Villains EN, Cybird owns everything.

It was our wedding day.

We'd made a vow of love that was more like a curse, binding ourselves to each other until death.

Kate: "Jude, I'm really okay now."

Jude: "That's for me to decide."

But right after our wedding, several armed thugs attacked us with weapons.

Amidst the scuffle, I couldn't help but think how beautiful the shower of broken glass how beautiful the shower of broken glass was as it gleamed through the air.

The ringleader of the attack had been rendered unconscious by my groom's merciless kick. Apparently, he had some kind of grudge against Jude.

Speaking of my husband, he was currently examining every inch of me to make sure I was all right.

My wedding dress was barely hanging onto me.

And that wasn't the work of the thugs, but my husband's.

Jude: "Oy, I can't see. Look this way, at me."

Kate: "Jude..."

This wasn't the first time he'd seen my bare skin.

But that was precisely why my body was reacting to his rough touch.

Kate: "N-ngh..."

I bit the back of my hand to suppress the moan that threatened to spill out as his fingertips grazed my skin.

Kate: "I told you I'm fine, so you really don't have to check so thoroughly!"

Every time he touched me or looked at me, I felt my body heating up.

Jude: "I need to see every scratch on your body, so I know just how to torture the bastards who did this."

Jude: "Tch... I'm gonna find out who leaked the damn info 'bout our wedding, too."

As I listened to him muttering with irritation, I remembered how reluctant he'd been about having the wedding.

(Maybe...)

Kate: "Is this the real reason why you were against having a ceremony...?"

Jude: "Huh?"

He glare at me, scowling.

The fact that I actually adored that expression on his face meant I was too far gone.

Kate: "So that I wouldn't end up in danger?"

Jude: "First you're lookin' 'round at the pretty sparkles, now you're grinnin' like a fool. The hell's your problem?"

Kate: "You didn't deny it."

Jude: "Cuz you're just gonna interpret it however ya want anyway."

Kate: "Aha, that's true."

Jude: "Go on 'n laugh now. But one wrong move 'n they coulda stabbed ya to death."

His long fingers slipped down from my breasts to my stomach.

Kate: "Ahh, mm..."

The stimulation only made the desire inside of me build more, and a moan slipped out.

Jude: "...The hell are ya moanin' for?"

Kate: "I was just surprised!"

Jude: "Oh yeah?"

Without warning, he roughly pushed me down onto the bed.

He loomed over me, his hands gripping onto my waist.

Jude: "I forgot. There's still places I gotta examine."

He pushed up my wedding dress and lifted my legs into the air, spreading them.

Kate: "Jude!"

I shrieked his name in surprise, heat bursting across my cheeks and deep in my belly.

Jude: "So that's the sound ya make when you're just surprised, huh?"

Jude: "Lewd."

Kate: "H-hold on a second."

Jude: "Hm? What was that?"

A sharp pain raced through me as he nipped at the tender flesh of my inner thigh.

Kate: "Nngh!"

Jude: "That hurt?"

I nodded. But he already knew that pain wasn't the only thing I felt when he did that to me.

Every time he sank his teeth into my feverish skin, my heart raced and a sweet throbbing sensation built up inside me.

And as his tongue sweetly traced the bite marks he'd left, an even deeper desire pulsed through me.

Jude: "Ya really love pain, don't ya?"

I bit my lip hard when I heard that teasing tone in his voice.

Kate: "You made me that way."

He was the one who turned pain and shame into pleasure, who made me get off on it.

He was the one who changed everything I thought about what made me feel good.

Jude: "Mm, I love that sexy look on your face."

Jude: "I won't let ya go even if you cry or scream tonight, just how ya like it."

A sweet shiver ran through my spine as his eyes glowed with a sadistic passion he didn't even try to conceal.

With him, I'm sure it would be heaven even if he made love to me on a bed of nails.

==========

Jude: "We're both outta our minds, ya know that?"

He murmured as he lightly caressed my left hand, my fingers uncurling from the sheets to lace with his.

He wore an identical wedding band on his left ring finger.

And I couldn't help but grin when I saw it.

Jude: "Now what're ya grinnin' at?"

Jude: "What's so great 'bout that foul contract we made, huh?"

Kate: "You said so yourself. Those who will break the vow will break it. Those who can keep it will keep it until they die."

Jude: "How the hell can ya remember somethin' I said so long ago in that lil brain of yours?"

Kate: "That last part was unnecessary."

Jude: "How can that bird brain hold so many memories?"

Kate: "...I feel like the insults are just getting worse now."

Jude: "So what?"

Kate: "You're the kind of person who won't break his vows, no matter how foul they are."

Kate: "And because I know that, I'm happy."

Kate: "The fact that you made a vow to me..."

Kate: "Means you're going to keep to it, no matter what."

Jude: "...Even though y'know it'll just hurt ya in the end."

Jude: "The fact that you're happy there's no escape from me for the rest of your life means you're hopeless."

The man I loved was a dangerous man who earned people's grudges and got attacked in broad daylight, even on the day of his wedding.

But I knew a long time ago that being with him meant facing endless danger.

Kate: "You're the one who made me like the pain."

Jude: "Oh, so now you're blamin' me, huh?"

Despite his sarcastic tone, his touch was gentle as he stroked my hair.

Jude: "Nasty lil princess."

End Epilogue

[flowery-laser-blasts]

I love the way you hurt me, my tears are your wine.

Your thoughts would draw my plan for a cruise in vain.

Like talons in the pale moon shining above us.

The line between pleasure and pain has slowly vanished.

As we sink deeper and deeper into a void of your venomous love.

Inspired by Alice Cooper's 'Bed of Nails'.

I honestly love this sketch and I feel like trying to render it would take away something...